


The Turning Tide

by Jenn_Harper



Series: Another Kind of Odyssey [3]
Category: Ancient History RPF, Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Break Up, Family, Getting Back Together, Historical, Historical References, Kassandra as a mother, Loving relationships, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Peloponnesian War, Relationship Development, Relationship Problems, Stentor as a developing character, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, thalexios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn_Harper/pseuds/Jenn_Harper
Summary: Spring, 413BCE. The Peace of Nikias has ended. Sparta and Athens are at one another's throats again. Before the Peace, Sparta was having few successes; but they have a plan they hope will turn the tide against Athens...Against this backdrop of renewed hostilities, Alexios and Thaletas are called upon to complete a mission for King Agis, which will test them and their relationship in ways they haven’t been tested before...As with the previous parts, this work uses mostly characters from the game, with a few of my own carried over from the first two parts of this story.As before, I’ll include in the footnotes when I’ve drawn something directly from history or when I have deliberately chosen to ignore it, for those of you who are interested.I hope you enjoy it :)
Relationships: Alexios/Thaletas (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Another Kind of Odyssey [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868671
Comments: 24
Kudos: 28





	1. An Achaean Winter

Alexios was crouching in a dark corner of the shipyards at Patrae, waiting and watching. His breath came in steamy clouds, and not for the first time, he wished he had passed on this job – but after he and Thaletas had spent the previous summer lost in one another, the coffers were running low, and besides, it had been too good to pass up - as they always were, he thought wryly.  
Isadas, Thaletas’ brother and a member of the Krypteia, had arrived one sleepy summer afternoon right on the verge of autumn with the job offer. Alexios smiled for a moment as he remembered. He and Thaletas had been in bed, wrapped in one another, when the pounding on the door had sent them scurrying for tunics. They’d expected Stentor, who never sent warning that he was coming; Isadas had been a pleasant surprise though.  
He and Thaletas had embraced warmly, and he’d grasped hands with Alexios, before getting straight down to business. He’d come from Korinthia, where he’d been based for the last few years of the peace – not that they were supposed to know that. It was only in recent months that he’d come to believe there was a consolidation of power forming in the city; anti-Spartan in sentiment, thriving off of and encouraging the age-old discontent of the Korinthians against Sparta. The wealthy city of pots and prostitutes, as Alexios would always think of it, had always chaffed at their inferior position in the Peloponnesian League, and that had only increased when Sparta had delayed involvement in the war in Syracuse, which was a Korinthian colony. The Korinthians had, of course, wanted and expected action immediately. The city council had made no secret that they had been been furious at the Spartans indecision.  
Isadas had yet to identify the Athenian agent in Korinthia, but he had discovered the names and location of at least two of their agents in Achaea. Isadas knew they were posing as Spartans, and were doing everything they could to interfere with the construction of ships under Korinthian direction which was going on there. Their interference had already increased tensions between the two allies to dangerous levels. The spies must be removed, and it needed to be done quickly and quietly. There was no one, he had said with a flattering grin, who was able to take care of it more effectively than his brother and Alexios.  
Alexios rubbed his hands together to warm them. He could see the sea beyond the slipways full of Spartan ships being constructed with Korinthian money; the moon was a silver splice across the otherwise dark water. The lights of distant Kephalonia were visible out there, dots of warm yellow light in the otherwise crystalline chill of the winter night.  
He and Thaletas had come to Achaea a couple of days after Isadas' visit, and had been on the trail of the Athenian agents ever since. They’d started off with two names; but it was a classic case of a rat’s nest. The original two had led to upwards of fifteen men and women who were involved. Alexios had at a certain point, he thought grimly, wondered whether they would have to assassinate the entire city of Patrae. It had certainly felt like it.

At that moment, he saw Prexinos, the man they had been waiting for, enter the slipway surreptitiously, looking left and right, though he couldn’t possibly see a thing in the inky darkness. He went towards a ship that was under construction, and clambered up the ladder which ran up to the deck, which was only partially constructed.  
Alexios followed him silently. Prexinos was the last name on their list – though he was not the first man that they had optimistically thought would be the last.  
As he gained the deck, Alexios caught a slight movement as something passed across the opening out to the sea and knew that Thaletas was where he was supposed to be, keeping an eye on things. Prexinos had disappeared, no doubt dropped beneath the part of the deck that was in place, Alexios thought. He approached the edge and peeped over into the well of the hull.  
The agent had entered the well down a short ladder. He'd lighted a small lamp, and was leaning over a collection of plans which were unrolled on a small table. He was shuffling through them, muttering to himself, clearly looking for something.  
Alexios took a deep breath then dropped down into the hull, landing silently behind Prexinos, and leaning back against the ladder, blocking his escape.  
‘Whatever can you be looking for?’ he asked softly, enjoying the moment of startled horror as the agent swung around, and stumbled back against the table, sending it toppling backwards and snuffing the lamp.  
For a moment it was totally dark. Alexios could hear Prexinos scrambling around in panic, no doubt seeking the ladder at the other end of the hull.  
Alexios casually took out a torch and lit it. The agent had made it to the far end of the hull, and set one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. He looked up in dismay as the light revealed Thaletas sitting at the top, his legs hanging, casually looking down as him. ‘Hello, Prexinos,’ he said with a smile.  
The agent made a strange sound – a kind of strangled cry - then backed away until his back was hard against one side of the ship, looking from one mercenary to the other, his fear palpable.  
Alexios advanced towards him, and said, ‘You seem disturbed, Prexinos. Could it be that you aren’t authorised to be here? Could it be that you are, in fact, an Athenian agent?’  
He shook his head in a frantic way. ‘No!’ he said in a stammer, ‘No, I’m the head shipbuilder. I just came to look over the plans.’  
Alexios raised one brow, and sadly shook his head. ‘I could have sworn the head shipwright here was Neokles. Isn’t that what we heard, Thaletas?’ He looked up at his lover with mock-seriousness.  
Thaletas said in a relaxed way, ‘It is; unless Neokles died since yesterday...’  
Alexios turned back to Prexinos. ‘As I thought. So. Let me repeat my question – could it be that you are, in fact, an Athenian agent?’  
Rather than answer, Prexinos slumped forwards with a groan as though he had been punched in the stomach. Alexios frowned in irritation, and stepped forward, intending to make him stand up once more; but Prexinos suddenly swung at him, and in the light of the torch, Alexios saw the gleam of a dagger.  
Alexios dodged it easily enough and then took up a defensive position; but rather than strike again, Prexinos turned the knife on himself, stabbing himself in the chest and dropping to the floor with an awful groan. He was dead in moments.  
Thaletas came down the ladder to join Alexios, who was rifling through the dead man’s pockets. ‘Well, that was dramatic.’  
‘Mm,’ Alexios said distractedly. ‘He should have been an actor instead of an agent.’ He stood then, a couple of tablets in one hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

They returned through the silent streets to the small house they were living in in the city. It was a simple ship builders house, a single room with a hay pallet in one corner and precious little else, but it met their needs.  
Thaletas put more wood into the brazier while Alexios settled onto the pallet with the tablets. A lamp was lit beside the bed, but the light was so scanty that he had to hold the tablets right next to it and even then, he frowned fiercely, trying to make out what they said.  
The brazier lit, Thaletas came to sit beside him. ‘Anything interesting?’  
Alexios threw the tablets down and sat back, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out before him. For a moment he closed his eyes. ‘Not a thing. A shopping list and a letter to his mother. We’ll search his house in the morning, but if he’s like the others, we won’t find anything damning. Have to give them their due – they’re a damn sight more secretive than most people bent on espionage.’  
‘That might be it then,’ Thaletas said, looking up at him hopefully. ‘The last of the agents?’  
Alexios opened his eyes and turned to face Thaletas, his head still leant against the wall. He smiled warmly. ‘If the gods are kind. I’ll be glad to see the back of this place. It’s too damn cold.’  
As though to prove his point, he rested his freezing fingers against Thaletas’ cheek, who pulled his face away with a slight frown but a smile playing on his lips.  
‘Keep your hands to yourself!’ he said, laughter in his voice.  
Alexios chuckled. ‘But I’m so cold.’ He leant towards Thaletas, his face very close to his – eye to eye, lips so close he could feel the heat from his skin. In a caressing voice, he murmured, ‘You could help.’  
Thaletas’ heart was pounding eagerly, but he maintained his playful show of resistance. ‘I’ll help with advice: Go and put them over the brazier.’  
Alexios growled in his throat and kissing Thaletas with deliberate tenderness, he made it quite clear he wasn’t going to take that as an acceptable answer.

The following morning, they went to the house of Prexinos, a grand affair which had at one point, Alexios seemed to recall, been the Leader House. If it had, the leader had abandoned it to go and live in Olourus Fortress, which with all the trouble that had already come, and was certain to continue over the coming months and years, was certainly the smartest choice.  
The place was busy; people came and went, met with friends in the yard outside, went in and out of the house and outbuildings as though it was public place.  
Alexios shook his head wryly. ‘This gives a whole new meaning to hiding in plain sight.’  
They searched the buildings carefully, no one paying any mind to them, Alexios taking the main house, Thaletas the outbuildings.  
It was Alexios who found the skytale inside a tall pot. He smashed it by knocking it off the table it had stood on, to the alarm of a cluster of women who were nearby. He grinned, and as charmingly as possible, said, ‘My apologies, ladies. An accident.’  
They eyed him askance, but went back to their chatter.  
Alexios swept up the strip of papyrus and took out his own skytale and wound the piece of papyrus around it. Reading the message with great satisfaction, he hastily went to find Thaletas.  
He was in a library, a scroll open in front of him taken from an overloaded set of pigeon holes against the wall. He was frowning heavily, but looked up with relief when Alexios came in and told him he’d found what they were looking for.  
‘Thank the gods,’ Thaletas said. ‘I don’t think I could bear to unroll one more scroll of Athenian poetry.’ He waved the one that he was holding at Alexios, and said, ‘This one is by your old friend, Lykinos of Kechries.’ He pretended to study it for a moment as he said, ‘There was something rather interesting in it; something about a “man of the spear” who left the author in the “winter of his indifference.”’  
Alexios wrinkled his nose. ‘Spare me,’ he said, then waved his hand dismissively. ‘Anyway, put that away and listen to this.’ He read from the skytale, ‘”Our contact in Athens is leaving the city at the opening of spring. Brother, you are the last of us in the field; you must come to me in Korinthia as soon as you can. They are closing in on us from all directions. We’ve run out of time. Leave a message at the guesthouse when you’re back in the city, and I will seek you out.”’  
Thaletas nodded, tossing the scroll he was still holding onto the table irreverently. ‘Good. We’ll send a message to Isadas with this lead to their leader; it might be the break he needs.' He stretched as they walked back towards the street. 'Our work is done. Now just to go to Sparta and collect.’  
Alexios said with a suggestive grin, 'Then home again.'  
Thaletas smiled back, his eyes gleaming, and said, 'If the gods are kind.'  
The gods must have been listening; they hadn’t gone far when they were accosted by a young man in a Spartan uniform, who called out, ‘Alexios? Alexios of Sparta?’  
Alexios groaned when he saw the uniform, and said in an exasperated way, ‘Yes? What is it?’  
The young man looked nervous, but he said firmly, ‘I come from King Agis. He requests that you return to Sparta immediately. He has a job for you.’ The young man handed him the written request on a skytale, nodded, and rushed away again.  
Alexios sighed and quickly read it, before shoving it into his belt. ‘No details, but it sounds urgent.’  
Thaletas said wryly, ‘I guess the gods didn't much care for my optimism.’


	2. A Bold Plan

It was early in the morning when Stentor entered the main room of the House of Leonidas already dressed in his armour, clanking slightly. Myrrine handed him a bowl of food without asking if he wanted it, and he took it. Most mornings he didn’t eat breakfast, but she was well aware that with an assembly of the Spartiates happening that day, he would most likely have no chance to eat until evening.   
‘Pater has already gone out?’ he asked Myrrine tersely, and she nodded, her face grim. The room was quiet barring the sounds of the fire in the grate, and Myrrine making bread. He plonked his helmet on the table beside himself, sat on a stool and fell to eating.  
The night before, during the quiet time after dinner, when Kassandra and Myrrine had tidied away their dinner things, and Nikolaos, Vettius and Stentor had returned from the messes, the family had discussed the proposal that all of Sparta knew was coming.   
The Spartiates would be asked to vote on whether they should undertake an invasion of Attika, an act which would truly mark the resumption of the war after the back and forward of the previous summer, Stentor thought; and as far as that went, he was for it. After Athens had inflicted themselves on the lands of the Argolid, there had to be repercussions; but then there was the other part of the plan: the intended fortification of Dekelia, a place just north of Athens, and within sight of that city. Dekelia was right in the heart of Athenian territory, at the heart of their farmland, and the fortification would effectively cut them off from access to the main source of their food, and even better, access to Euboea, which was the alternative source. It would effectively weaken the city in a number of ways: It would reduce the amount of food to the city; though they would be able to transport some food via the sea, that was more expensive and more dangerous; and it would further weaken their morale, at a time when the people were already unhappy, entering the second year of a so far unsuccessful war in Sicilia.   
It was a bold plan, a clever plan, and Stentor could see that if they succeeded, it would turn the tide of the war; but for all that, he didn’t like it. Alcibiades had been the one to suggest it, and anything that snake said was sure to be laced with danger.  
Stentor had thought of little else for the past week, and had discussed what he saw as the serious risks of jumping too hastily into a plan concocted by someone that should be considered entirely untrustworthy. He hadn't swayed anyone though, he didn’t think, and he was certain that the proposal would be voted in.   
The peace of the morning was broken by the distant sound of a baby crying. Stentor grimaced into his bowl and ate more quickly; the sound came closer, and Kassandra entered the room, her hair in wild disarray, and carrying what Stentor thought of as ‘that squalling scrap of humanity’ – otherwise known as her son, his nephew, Leon – doing what he did best; screaming his lungs out.  
Kassandra handed the baby to her mother without a word, and set about serving herself breakfast.   
Stentor stood, thanked Myrrine for the food, and took up his helmet.  
She said, ‘Come straight back after the vote, lamb. We’ll be waiting to hear which way it goes.’  
He said tersely, ‘Of course; but I think we all know the Athenian will carry the day.’

The Spartans conducted their assemblies in the open, as directed in the ancient laws, and that day they were meeting in the theatre below the Temple of Athena Chalkioikos. It was only a short distance from the House of Leonidas, and because of his eagerness to get away from Leon’s crying, Stentor realised he’d left the house much earlier than he needed to. Only the elders had begun gathering, he saw – Nikolaos amongst them – and he decided that, rather than rehash what he had said a thousand times already to those who didn’t agree with him, he would walk up to the temple and check that the guards were in place on the upper level.   
He’d been in charge of Sparta’s home security since his return from Argolis in mid-summer the year before, and had spent the winter identifying issues, of which he naturally found many. The posts in the city were reserved for the men fresh out of the agoge, and traditionally, no one bothered to check up on them too closely; but because Stentor was Stentor, he’d started dropping by at unexpected times, and he’d soon discovered that some of the posts were treated with contempt – particularly this one at the temple of Athena. The young men had a tendency to use the post as a chance to get some extra sleep, or worse, to fraternise with the female worshippers.  
Stentor walked up the stairs, aware of the weight of his shield on his back after the winter without it; he would have to put in some extra training before the coming campaign season.  
When he reached the uppermost level, he took the indirect route to the place where the guards should be standing on duty so they wouldn't hear him coming. Reaching the northern end, he peeped around the corner, and found no one there, when there should have been two guards, one at either door. He grunted in exasperation and stepped out from behind the wall. Approaching the doors, he stepped inside and was about to exclaim at the guards incompetence, when he was horrified to discover that there were only two people in the temple, neither of them a Spartan guard, and both engaged in sexual congress; so much so that they were oblivious to anything else, not even noticing that they had been caught in the act.   
For a long moment Stentor just stared, his mouth open; but then in haste he retreated, hurrying away. As he rounded the corner on the opposite side of the temple from the way he had approached, he collided with the two guards he had been looking for.  
They boggled at him, and one of them said, ‘Sir! Where did you come from?’  
Stentor was still too horrified by what he had seen to think clearly. He asked the first thing that came into his head. ‘Why are you here?’  
The guard said, ‘Queen Timaea ordered us to stay here and stop anyone entering. She said she needed total peace to consult with the goddess.’  
Gods, Stentor thought feeling panicky, he hadn’t dreamt it, then – It was Agis’ wife he’d seen in there – but it sure as Hades wasn’t Agis with her, he knew that much. He hadn’t got a good look at the man though; the queen had been astride the laying figure, her back to him, hiding the man’s face; but he was too fair to be Agis.  
He put his hand on his forehead, forgetting that the guards were there. After a long moment of his standing like that, staring blankly at the floor, one of the guards said, ‘Sir, are you alright?’  
Stentor looked at him, recollecting himself. He barked, ‘If you want to stop people entering the temple, you had best block both entryways, don’t you think?’  
The first guard flushed, realising his mistake, and said, ‘Of course, sir.’  
‘Then get to your post – and use your head next time! Let no one else in.’   
He waited just long enough to see the first guard in his post, then hurried away, his head reeling. 

At the theatre, Stentor saw that Agis had arrived and many more voters. The king was moving amongst the crowd, chatting cheerfully. Stentor followed him with his eyes, agonising over what he should do with this awful piece of information he'd discovered.   
How could he tell the King that his wife was committing adultery? Should he tell him at all? It was possible he already knew, and if Stentor said anything, it would only be embarrassing for them both. Many men turned a blind eye, allowing that they were away for long stretches of time, and provided the man in question was a good Spartan, there was no real problem. The ancient laws certainly encouraged the sharing of spouses, especially in cases where there was a lack of children between a married couple, provided they were doing all the right things. There was a good chance Agis was agreeable.  
‘Agis will have a hole burnt in his head if you keep staring like that,’ Nikolaos said quietly beside him, making him jump.  
‘Was I staring?’ Stentor said, flushing slightly. ‘I didn’t mean to.’  
Nikolaos looked at him closely. ‘You seem unusually perturbed.’  
Stentor said, ‘It’s the vote. I’m nervous about the outcome.’  
Nikolaos didn’t take his eyes from his face for a long moment, while Stentor valiantly avoided meeting his gaze. There was definitely something else, but Nikolaos knew well enough that if his son wanted to tell him about it, he would in his own time and not before; so he said, ‘You already know what the vote will be, just as I do.’  
At that moment, there was a stir in the crowd behind them, and they turned to see Alcibiades descending the steps from the direction of the Temple of Athena Chalkioikos. He was wearing a simple Spartan cloak – which he had assumed at the beginning of winter; but there was something else. Stentor frowned. ‘Pater, are my eyes deceiving me, or is the Athenian’s hair braided in Spartan fashion?’  
Nikolaos grunted, the only answer that was needed.  
Alcibiades descended the steps with his arms raised, as though he were praying; the gesture caught the attention of the whole crowd. ‘Spartans!’ he said, ‘I come before you today as an outsider, unable to speak before the assembly; but I must speak, as a man who holds Sparta’s success as near my heart as my own life…’  
‘For now,’ Stentor muttered.   
Alcibiades continued, ‘Any man who listens to sense must vote to march on Attika; Athena wills it! I have spent the morning praying in the temple,’ he gestured upwards towards the Temple of Athena Chalkioikos melodramatically, ‘And the goddess visited me there. She sent me a vision...’  
Stentor coloured violently as he realised what that really meant. With a great force of will, he fought the impulse to shout in rage. Spartan law had been violated, Spartan womanhood had been violated – by the gods, in its most sacred of places, too! And despite that, this Athenian degenerate dared to stand before them, against all custom addressing the assembly, to crown it all, claiming that Athena had visited him with a divine vision of Sparta’s future!  
The crowd was cheering loudly, surging forward in excitement. He could no longer hear what Alcibiades was saying even if he had he wanted to. He could see his mouth moving, eyes raised to the heavens, his silvery-blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.  
Nikolaos was frowning slightly, and turned to Stentor, intending to comment that the Athenian's popularity was certainly running high, when he noticed that Stentor looked as though he was going to explode. Misunderstanding his anger, he rested a hand on his arm and shouted over the noise, ‘Let him speak. The crowd will not let him be silenced, and it will make no difference to the outcome now.’  
Stentor was brought back to himself by the hand on his arm, and with an effort, he nodded once, curtly. Nikolaos was right; he would be torn apart if he spoke out against Alcibiades now, with such enthusiasm for him amongst the crowd.   
He looked over at Agis, and saw that no one was paying any attention to him anymore. He was frowning lightly, arms crossed. Across the theatre, their eyes met. Agis no doubt saw his own misgivings in Stentor’s face, and nodded slightly.  
Alcibiades had finished saying whatever it was he had said, and was moving away from the theatre. He had more swagger in his step than usual, a look of elation on his face. And well he might, Stentor thought sourly. Not for the first time, he cursed the Athenian people for not hunting Alcibiades down and executing him when he had been sentenced to death. The gods had a lot to answer for, inflicting that man on the Spartans.

The speeches to the assembly lasted most of the day, every elder and ephor wanting to have his say, though they all struck the same note – it was Sparta’s time, the goddess willed it; they would turn the tide against Athens. There were two men who spoke out against the proposal, but they were shouted down; so that in the mid-afternoon, when the ephor Endius demanded that the vote be taken and all those in favour shout their approval, the deafening roar of the vote itself was a mere formality.   
Stentor thought grimly that they must have heard it in Hades – which was just as well, because if things went wrong, or they were betrayed by Alcibiades, which was always possible, then they would need to prepare themselves for an influx of souls in the underworld.  
The crowd began to disperse, many of them to begin their preparations for leaving Sparta. Stentor had just turned for home with Nikolaos when they were approached by a royal slave. ‘General Stentor? Agis would like to speak with you privately.’ He pointed back towards the theatre.  
Stentor nodded, patted Nikolaos on the shoulder, and went to find the King.

As always in the wake of public events, there were many people who weren’t ready to go home, but lingered, wanting to talk over everything that had occurred with anyone who could be cornered. A small handful had secured Agis’ attention, but when he saw Stentor coming, he said, ‘You’ll excuse me,’ and stepped forwards. ‘Walk with me,’ he said, turning down the hill, and Stentor followed, keeping pace with his long strides.  
‘You disagree with the vote,’ the king said.  
‘I disagree with the Athenian’s involvement,’ Stentor corrected.  
‘You think the plan a poor one?’  
‘Not necessarily. It’s bold, but as you’ll be the one undertaking it, I’m sure it will not be reckless.’  
Agis smiled faintly, but said, ‘You don’t trust Alcibiades.’  
‘No, as everyone knows. A man who will turn on his own people so thoroughly should be driven out as one would drive a venomous snake from one’s home. It's only a matter of time before he turns on us, too.’  
Agis glanced at him, surprised at his vehemence. ‘You have a particular reason for thinking so?’  
Stentor flushed, but lied, ‘My information is my King’s information. I only know what my gut tells me; the agoge taught me to trust my instincts.’  
Agis considered this. They had come to stand beneath the statue of Leonidas. He looked up at the bold figure, jaw set, shield at the ready. He said quietly, ‘The people have voted, and we go boldly into the future. If the plan succeeds, we will have broken the Athenians.’ He turned to Stentor then, and said, ‘I share your concerns, Stentor, and I have sent for your brother that he might assist us with this situation.’  
Stentor frowned. ‘What will you ask him to do?’  
Agis said, ‘That is of less importance than what you will ask him to do.’ Stentor frowned, and Agis said, ‘I think Alexios is friends with Alcibiades?’  
Stentor wasn’t sure about that. Though Alexios often spoke of how much he distrusted and disliked the Athenian, still, there was some form of bond between them. He said cautiously, ‘They have a relationship, of sorts...’  
Without skipping a beat, Agis said, ‘Good. Then I will leave it to you to ask him to discover anything Alcibiades might be holding back from us. I cannot be seen to be involved, of course; but as everyone knows you distrust him, there can be no danger in your arranging this.’  
Stentor stared at him for a moment, thinking that the chances of Alexios agreeing to this kind of task were very slim; but he could hardly argue with his king. ‘I will do as ordered, of course,’ he said.  
Agis smiled, patted his shoulder, and said pointedly, ‘Thank you for your loyalty, Stentor – and your discretion.’  
Stentor watched him walk away, but lingered, standing for a long moment, looking up at the statue of Leonidas, before turning back towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical note:  
> Alcibiades had suggested the fortification of Dekelia in a speech to the Spartan people the previous year, at the same time as he was urging the Spartan's to send a force to Sicilia. The Spartans delayed as the Athenians were still holding to the peace treaty at the time; but as soon as they breached the peace, the Spartan's took up the plan as I've shown here.  
> Spartan votes were always taken in the open, so everyone would know which way a man voted. The trouble of course is that this put a lot of pressure on those who opted to vote for the peaceful route, particularly when a majority was set on war; a good Spartan was expected to have absolute faith in Sparta's strength of course, and would be looked down on in a situation such as this if they went against the tide. I didn't say so here, but I believe that Stentor and Nikolaos would have voted in favour of the proposal against their own (perhaps) better judgement for this reason.  
> Alcibiades historically is said to have had an affair with Agis' wife Timaea (though some sources name a second wife instead, named Timonassa.) He did assume Spartan dress and customs - Plutarch portrays this way of fitting in anywhere as a gift peculiar to Alcibiades. It certainly helped his popularity with the Spartiates, but how sincere it was is open to speculation.


	3. Cat and Mouse

Thaletas and Alexios arrived at the House of Leonidas in the early hours of the morning, having travelled through a night thick with fog. With the city sleeping around them, they dismounted at the stables and gave the horses a quick rub down and an apple. As they approached the house, the distant sound of wolves howling reached Alexios on a gentle breeze and he sighed. There were few things that reminded him more of the time before he’d found his family or Thaletas again: a cold, empty night, with the sound of wolves in the distance. He looked at Thaletas’ dark silhouette beside him and felt his heart swell with gladness.  
Thaletas slipped off to the sleeping quarters; but Alexios wasn’t ready to sleep, so he went into the main room of the house where Myrrine had left the fire banked low. He stirred it to new life, putting wood onto it from the stack in the corner, and settling onto a stool. He watched the flames licking at the edges of the kindling he’d added and sighed contentedly, glad to be off the horse; though he acknowledged he would be more content when he knew what it was Agis wanted from him so urgently.  
A baby’s wail broke the quiet, though it was hushed after a moment, and he smiled to himself. His nephew was well, then. A short while later, Kassandra entered the room, her face puffy with tiredness. Alexios turned. ‘Chaire, sister.’  
She wasn’t completely awake, so for a moment she seemed confused to see him and looked at him blankly; then her brain caught up with her eyes, and she said, ‘Chaire, Alexios. I didn’t know you were coming.’  
‘Sent for by the king,’ he said quietly.  
She resumed her transit towards the fire, and took a stool beside him, Leon held tightly to her. The baby began wriggling, and Kassandra looked down at him fondly though with something of exasperation in her face.  
Alexios said, 'He’s well?’  
She nodded, but when she looked up, her face was grave. ‘You heard about the vote?’  
Alexios shook his head slightly. ‘I’ve been in Achaea since autumn – no news.’  
‘The assembly voted yesterday to march into Attika again – to recommence the war in a form you and I have seen before.’ She sighed. ‘They think this time it will be different.’ She scoffed. ‘It never is.’  
Alexios raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve shared that opinion with Vettius?’  
She smiled ever so slightly. ‘Of course not. He’s a good Spartan; he thinks we’ll walk into Attika, build ourselves a fort, and the Athenians won’t bat an eyelid at it.’  
He looked at her in surprise. ‘We’re building a fort?’  
She nodded. ‘Dekelia.’  
He frowned. ‘That’s Alcibiades’ plan. The assembly rejected it last year.’  
‘They did; but your friend has become very popular since then. He has the ephors and the people eating out of his hand.’  
‘He’s not my friend,’ Alexios said absently, almost out of habit. He thought that the vote must have some bearing on what Agis wanted from him; perhaps he and Thaletas would be asked to march with the army to Dekelia. As a mercenary, marching with the army was very low on his list of things he liked to do. Too much oversight, too much requesting permission to sneeze. Agis was easy going as a commander, but still – it was the army, he was the king, and Alexios was a free spirit.  
Kassandra was humming to Leon, and shifted him from one arm to the other as she said, ‘It’s frustrating.’  
‘What is?’ he asked.  
‘Having to stay here.’  
He shook his head and was about to reply when Myrrine came into the room. She saw Alexios and smiled. He stood to greet her, forehead to forehead, then resumed his place as she turned to preparing breakfast; a moment later, Nikolaos arrived, suspiciously coming from the same direction as Myrrine. Alexios smiled to himself. Spartan law made it necessary for men to lay with their wives in secrecy; it was considered shameful to be caught visiting a wife’s bed. Alexios had never been certain that his parents had resumed their marriage relations after Myrrine had returned from Naxos; now he knew.  
‘Chaire, pater.’  
Nikolaos smiled in his mild way, and said, ‘Chaire, Alexios. I heard you’d been summoned.’  
Kassandra grouchily said, ‘You could have told me.’  
Nikolaos looked at her. ‘Another sleepless night?’ he asked. She nodded. He came to where she was sitting, and looked down at the sleeping face of his grandson, a smile lurking around his eyes. ‘A picture of peace.’ She grunted, which made the smile more pronounced. He turned to Alexios and asked, ‘You’ll go to speak with Agis this morning?’  
He nodded. ‘Do you know what he’s going to ask?’  
Nikolaos shook his head. 'Stentor might know.'  
Alexios accepted a bowl of breakfast and began eating.

Stentor was woken in the men’s sleeping quarters by Alexios’ voice, and looking over towards the corner, he saw Thaletas lightly snoring there.  
Reluctantly, he sat up and prepared to get out of bed. He hadn’t slept well; in part, because the squalling scrap of humanity had been more vocal than usual; but mostly because he was unhappy about what he’d discovered, and how he’d reacted to it.  
He felt ashamed and a little irritated with himself. His training had emphasised that, for better or worse, serious situations like this should be confronted directly, without quailing – just as you’d face an enemy, straight on; but something had stopped him from doing what was right. During the night, he’d reached the uncomfortable conclusion that the root cause of that was what had happened when he’d confronted Isadora over her treatment of Thaletas the previous summer. He had acknowledged that he was coming up against a new version of himself, a foreign sensitivity to other peoples feelings - and he was deeply conflicted by it. He longed to return to his old, straightforward view of the world, but he glumly thought that that was impossible.  
He walked into the main room and greeted everyone, finding that Alexios was already on his feet, preparing to leave.  
‘Brother,’ Stentor said in a surly way, ‘You’re going to speak with Agis?’  
Alexios wondered at his tone. With one eyebrow raised, he said. ‘I am.’  
‘We need to speak. I’ve a request to make of you.’  
Alexios had reached the door and stepped outside, and Stentor followed.  
Alexios suggested, ‘Come with me, and we can discuss whatever it is on the way?’  
‘I can’t, I’ve a meeting to attend. You’ll find me at the gymnasium.’  
Alexios shook his head to himself as Stentor went stalking away down the hill without waiting for his reply.

Both the kings were in the throne room when Alexios entered; Agis stood and came forward to greet him warmly, while Pleistoanax remained seated and aloof, barely greeting him at all – but at least he wasn’t downright rude, an improvement on the last time they’d met.  
‘Thank you for coming to us so quickly,’ Agis said.  
‘Of course, my King.’  
‘You've completed the mission in Achaea?’  
‘We have.’  
‘Good. I'll have payment arranged.' He paused before continuing, 'I have another task for you, of the utmost importance. It will require speed and secrecy above all else.’  
Alexios raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’  
The king paced back and forwards slowly as he said, ‘We’ve received an urgent call for help from our agent in Epidaurus. There is a situation there involving someone I'm told you know quite well - Euripides.’  
Alexios was startled; but he said, ‘Yes. He and I have been friends for many years.’  
Agis nodded and continued, ‘He's been providing us with useful information for the last year or two. Unfortunately, he recently talked about that to the wrong people, and was forced to flee Athens, of course going to Argolis, his home region, where he thought he had friends he could trust. As happens in these cases, they turned on him, so he was forced to take refuge with our agent there. The anti-Spartan feeling in Argolis is running very high; he cannot stay there. His presence threatens our agent to exposure, and Sparta isn’t willing to take that risk for a single day longer than necessary.’  
Alexios said, ‘Of course. Where am I to take him?’  
‘He wishes to go to Makedonia, where he says he’ll be welcome, and where he will function as a much-needed set of eyes for Sparta; but getting him there will be extremely difficult. The Athenians are baying for his blood; there are armed patrols on the roads, and the sea is filled with pentercosters specifically searching for him. It's up to you of course, but I think you’ll have to take him overland.’  
Alexios slowly began to nod. He could see the enormity of the task; it would take him weeks to get Euripides to Makedonia from Argolis overland, and he would have to pass through some of the most hostile territory on the way; but Agis was probably right; the seas were extremely hazardous since the outbreak of hostilities.  
‘Is Boeotia still on our side?’ he asked.  
Agis sighed. ‘There are rumours that the pro-Athenian faction in Thebes is growing in strength, but as far as we know, they are still loyal to our treaty.’  
‘Well that’s something.’ Alexios paused, then with an assurance he did not feel, he said, ‘I’ll get it done.’  
Agis said gratefully, ‘Succeed, and you’ll be doing Sparta a great service.’  
Alexios bowed his head and was dismissed.  
Once he was back in the street, he allowed himself to consider how much of a mess this may turn into; but he would never leave Euripides to his fate if he could do anything to help him. His so-called service to Sparta had nothing to do with it.  
He put his worries aside, and turned towards the gymnasium. He was curious to know what his little brother’s mysterious ‘important matter’ might be. 

Stentor was watching two boys wrestling when Alexios arrived, but he turned away as soon as he saw Alexios and took him into a small room to speak with him privately.  
‘What did the king ask of you?’ Stentor asked.  
Alexios shrugged, and said, ‘I have a package of sorts to deliver on his behalf; but never mind that - what's this important matter you wanted to talk to me about?’  
Stentor grimaced. ‘The decision to fortify Dekelia came from Alcibiades; and you know I don’t trust him.’  
Alexios said slowly, ‘Yes… I know.’ He had a sinking feeling in his stomach.  
Stentor looked him square in the eye and said, ‘I need you to discover if he is planning anything underhand against us.’  
‘Discover how?’ Alexios asked, frowning, immediately wanting to say no. If it hadn't been his brother asking, he would have.  
‘He might talk to you. He seems to like you more than some…’  
Alexios laughed bitterly. ‘He likes tormenting me with his intrigues. It’s not really the same thing.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no way he’ll tell me about anything he might have planned – not the truth, anyway.’  
Stentor’s jaw set. ‘You’ll have to find a way. He’s a snake who has already struck at the very heart of Sparta; if he's planning something else, we have to know.’  
He frowned. ‘He already has? How?’  
Stentor blurted, ‘He’s having an affair with Agis’ wife, Timaea.’  
He stared at him. ‘How do you know?’  
He'd flushed very red. ‘I discovered by accident yesterday.’ Then he muttered, ‘I wish I hadn’t.’  
‘Have you told the king?’ Alexios demanded.  
Stentor scowled, feeling attacked. ‘No. We’re about to march into Attika with Agis at our head. Now’s hardly the time.’ He was relieved when Alexios accepted this excuse, far from the truth as it was. He couldn’t bear having to explain the real reason.  
Alexios shook his head slowly. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. As to his planning something underhand, that’s always likely with Alcibiades.’ He sighed, and said, ‘I'll try to talk to him, but I doubt it’ll get us anywhere.’  
‘Thank you,’ Stentor said crisply. ‘You’ll probably find him at the agora. He likes to hang around there during the day, swaying the people with food and drink at his expense. Report to me anything you find.’  
Alexios turned to go, but then turned back. ‘There’ll be a substantial fee, I suppose?’  
Stentor narrowed his eyes. ‘Just so you can go and chat with your old friend? Not a chance. You’ll do it for your country.’  
Alexios snorted. ‘You have no idea how unpleasant the chat will be,’ he said, but rested a hand on Stentor’s shoulder for a moment. ‘Alright - I’ll do it for you, little brother.’  
Stentor swatted his hand away. ‘Sparta thanks you,’ he said, turning on his heel and going back into the gymnasium, leaving Alexios smiling to himself.

Alexios went to the agora, and as Stentor had said, he found Alcibiades there, surrounded by a small group of admirers.  
Nothing had prepared Alexios for his first look at Alcibiades with his hair braided and wearing the simple Spartan cloak. It was fortunate he was at some distance when he realised, and remained unnoticed because for a long moment, he could do nothing but stare at him. He could have laughed, but he was disgusted at what he perceived to be the game Alcibiades playing. By dressing as Spartiates dressed, he was announcing to the people that he had given up his Athenian persona, and could be trusted. Yes, it had been more than a year since he had been sentenced to death in Athens, but Alexios knew how absurd the idea was that he had somehow transformed in that time into a Spartan. He knew Alcibiades too well to believe it for even a second.  
He approached the small group, and Alcibiades noticed him. He smiled and said, ‘Alexios, the Eagle Bearer. What a pleasant surprise.’ He did not sound pleasantly surprised.  
Alexios assumed a cheerful voice. He deliberately looked him up and down before saying, ‘I should say if either of us should be surprised, that would be me.’  
Alcibiades excused himself from the people he had been speaking with, and joined Alexios. They turned up the hill as Alcibiades said, ‘You’re talking about the braid, I suppose?’  
Alexios raised an eyebrow at him, the only answer necessary.  
Alcibiades looked at him as though he was injured. ‘I’m a Spartan now, Alexios. Why should I not assume Spartan ways?’  
He refrained from snapping that if Alcibiades was Spartan, then he was a goat’s hind leg; instead he changed the subject. ‘I heard you made a great speech yesterday. Almost like the glory days back in Athens, I suppose?’  
Alexios saw Alcibiades grimace slightly; he clearly did not think a great speech in Sparta was anything to be proud of. He said, ‘So I’m told. I was only sharing the vision I was sent by the goddess Athena with the people. They deserved to hear it.’  
Alexios couldn’t suppress a grin. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, a vision – that was what you saw in the temple?’  
For the smallest instant, a look of alarm fleeted across Alcibiades’ face, before he forced a neutral expression back into place. He sounded unruffled as he said, ‘Yes – Athena came to me, showed me the triumph of the Spartans, standing victorious at the gates of Athens.’  
Alexios said conversationally, ‘Was Socrates there, in this vision of victory?’  
Alcibiades’ jaw tightened as he said, ‘Of course not.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘No, why would he be? You must have sent him warning of the Spartans' movements well in advance.’ Before he could deny this, Alexios continued, ‘Because of course, if you didn’t, all this information you’re supplying to Sparta must lead to his death. Those who don’t starve once we have the choker in place at Dekelia will certainly be killed when we overrun the city. You know the Spartans: men killed; women and children sold into slavery; walls demolished and the city razed to the ground. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? True Spartan that you are these days?’  
Alcibiades said calmly, though his voice had taken on an edge. ‘Athens cast me out, Alexios; what happens to her no longer concerns me.’  
Alexios assumed a thoughtful tone. ‘I wonder what Pericles would say to that.'  
Alcibiades swung around and looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘You think too much of the past; you should let it go. But then of course you have, in some ways. After all, here you are, fighting for Sparta after everything they did to you.' He said lightly, 'If I have betrayed the city I once loved, Alexios, at least I have not betrayed myself.'  
He fought the urge to retort to that, and after a moment was able to say calmly, ‘I’m just telling you that I know you, Alcibiades. These people,’ he gestured, meaning Spartans in general, ‘didn’t see how much you loved Athens, but I did. So, tell me the truth. How do you propose to get the Athenians to rescind your exile? How many Spartan heads will they need to open the gates to you once more o you think?’  
Alcibiades said very softly, ‘Be careful, Alexios. I begin to think that my affection for you may have been misplaced.’  
This reaction told Alexios everything he wanted to know. He snorted. 'You never had any affection for me, Alcibiades, nor for anyone else. We were all just means to an end; just as Sparta is now.' He turned away then, and said over his shoulder, 'Farewell.'

As he walked back towards the gymnasium, he regretted having been needled by Alcibiades into all but declaring him an enemy. Had he remained more aloof from the conversation, he might have got more information from him than he had; but what had been done was done. He could, with certainty, tell Stentor that the Athenian needed to be watched closely. His loyalty had in no way shifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical note:  
> Euripides was exiled from Athens towards the end of his life for being too outspoken against the resumption of the Peloponnesian War. He escaped to Makedonia, where he was taken under the protection of King Archelaus. It was believed that it was there he wrote the Bacchae, a rustic play, which still exists today.   
> Modern scholars debate the truth of this story, suggesting that it was an invention of antiquity to explain the different style of his later work, but I have gone with the writers of antiquity on this one. His being a Spartan informer is entirely creative licence.


	4. Complications and Detours.

Alexios and Thaletas reached Epidaurus late in the afternoon the following day. They would have arrived sooner but they’d lingered in Sparta to hear what postings Stentor and Vettius were to receive for the coming season which had been decided just that morning.  
Vettius was happy to be sent to Kythera. The island had been captured by Athens in the first years of the war, and they’d used it to launch regular raids along the Lakonian coast during that time. Possession of the island was one of the few provisions of the Peace of Nikias which had been honoured when it was returned to Sparta at the commencement of the peace. Needless to say, it was considered of the utmost importance that it wasn’t allowed to slip from their grasp again. Kassandra had taken the news sullenly, and Alexios wondered how long she would stay in Sparta after he was gone. He could imagine her, like some barbarian woman, with Leon strapped to her front, marching with the army. He smiled fondly at the thought; he wouldn’t be surprised if it happened.  
Stentor was travelling with Agis to Dekelia. He hadn’t been happy with the posting, Alexios alone knowing his precise reasons why: Stentor didn’t want to tell Agis about his wife, and he knew that the king being with him all the time, he would feel the burden of the secret on a daily basis. The rest of their family had supposed that it was just Stentor being Stentor.

The journey wasn’t too long, but was certainly melancholy. Once they crossed out of Lakonia, they passed through an area controlled by Sparta’s allies which had been ravaged by Athens during the previous summer in retaliation for what the Spartans had done to Argolis – which they then had to pass through as well. The fields around Epidaurus had been newly planted, but parts of the town itself had been burnt to the ground. The charred stumps of walls were a harsh reminder of what had been unleashed onto the world once more.  
When they reached the town, leaving their horses at a stable, they found there was a new, but entirely understandable, watchful atmosphere amongst the people. They looked at the two mercenaries warily; no one lingered in the street as they had done before.  
Alexios and Thaletas reached the house of Pitakos, and as they entered the yard, Thaletas said with a carefully neutral voice, ‘You go in. I’ll keep watch for any trouble.’  
Alexios knew Thaletas was being awkward because Thaletas and Pitakos had been lovers. It’d been a surprise to Alexios the previous spring when their paths had crossed with the Spartan agent, but he was in no way jealous, though Thaletas had never believed him when he said so. Alexios had seen very plainly during that meeting that Pitakos still had feelings for Thaletas, but Alexios had never pointed that out to his lover, whose obliviousness was more reassuring than any words would have been. Besides, Alexios thought, he didn’t doubt that Thaletas had told Pitakos the nature of his relationship with Alexios, and it would take a brave man to cross the legendary Eagle Bearer. He grinned. ‘You go. He knows you better than me.’ Thaletas looked at him as though he was going to refuse, but Alexios stopped him with a gesture. With laughter in his voice, he said, ‘Just go in already!’  
Once he’d entered the house, Alexios sat on a low wall, kicking his heels against the stone. The sun was bright, and the sky was a clear blue. Birds flitted in the trees, singing. It was really a nice place, he thought. Not as beautiful as Stymphalos, that much was true; but pretty.  
He began running over the map in his mind, planning the best way to get to Makedonia, when three Athenian guards approached the entryway to the yard.  
‘Who are you?’ the one in the lead, a strategoi, demanded.  
Alexios gave him his most charming smile. ‘Alexios, the Eagle Bearer. A misthios.’  
The light armoured guard on the left frowned in concern, but the strategoi said, ‘What are you doing here?’  
‘What do you think?’ Alexios asked offhandedly. ‘I’ve come with my associate chasing work. He’s inside.’  
The soldier with the worried face said, ‘Sir. The Eagle Bearer is a Spartan citizen.’  
Alexios’ eyebrows shot up as the strategoi looked at him with a new hardness in his face. Alexios said, ‘I was, years ago; but now I hail from Arkadia.’  
‘Don’t you Spartans claim that once a Spartan, always a Spartan?’  
‘Some do,’ Alexios said conversationally, ‘Not me. Loyalty doesn’t pay, I’ve found.’  
The third soldier, who’d remained quiet until then, muttered to the leader, ‘I told you Pitakos was suspect; this confirms it.’  
Alexios pretended ignorance. ‘Look, I don’t know what conclusions you’re drawing here. An Arkadian mercenary is visiting an Argive city councillor for work. That’s hardly cause for suspicions of any kind.’  
The third soldier was staring at him balefully. ‘Except you’re both supposedly ex-Spartans.’  
Alexios tried to remain calm, but he was tensing, preparing for a fight. He said with an unintended edge to his voice, ‘What can I say – Sparta drives people away regularly.’  
There was a moment of stillness then. The strategoi looked at Alexios; he looked back, willing him not to do what he saw he was going to do.  
The moment broke as the strategoi said, ‘Arrest him.’ Almost before the words had left his mouth, he lay dead on the ground. The two light armed soldiers looked dumbstruck, then turned, running back the way they had come, screaming.  
Alexios cursed, and hurried towards the house. The front door stood open and he passed down the hallway into an adjoining room where he found Pitakos and Thaletas. As he entered the room, he was struck by Pitakos’ face. He was gazing with open adoration at Thaletas, who was seated with his back to the door; his desire for Thaletas was unmistakable. It was almost painful to witness.  
Pitakos noticed Alexios, and the look vanished, replaced by wariness as he demanded tersely, ‘What is it?’  
Thaletas turned in his seat to look at Alexios. His face was slightly flushed, a smile fading from around his lips and eyes. For the first time since they had fallen in love with each other back in Sparta, Alexios felt the prick of jealousy; it reminded him painfully of the night Thaletas had announced that he was staying with Kyra.  
Alexios said more abruptly than he’d intended, ‘We have to go – now. Including you, Pitakos. Your cover’s blown.’  
Pitakos looked at him in alarm. ‘You’re sure?’  
‘I am. Where’s Euripides?’  
‘He’s hiding in the Cave of Pan.’  
Alexios turned and went back the way he’d come, the other two following on his heels. Once outside, he whistled for the horses. A crowd was already gathering in the street, panicky voices rising into a roar. Alexios saw that they were only civilians, but it wouldn’t take long for the soldiers to come back with reinforcements from the camp along the coast.  
‘What happened?’ Pitakos demanded as they rode past the body of the strategoi, sending the spectators scattering.  
‘He tried to arrest me,’ Alexios said tightly.  
Pitakos said with disgust, ‘That’s hardly a reason to kill a man.’  
Alexios glared at him, but then turned away, and spurred Phobos on. 

As they left the town, picking a way through the trees that covered the hills there, Alexios muttered half to himself, ‘This is a promising beginning; a bounty against my name on the first day out of Sparta.’  
Pitakos said snappily, ‘Never mind that. The kings are going to be furious. They’ll be blind in Argos when they need eyes there the most! You don’t know what you’ve done!’  
Alexios said angrily, ‘I wasn’t talking to you! And I told you, you were already blown. Maybe you should have been more careful!’  
Pitakos scowled at him. ‘I have to get to Sparta then.’  
‘Then go,’ Alexios said tightly. ‘We have to get Euripides to Makedonia.’  
‘I will once we reach Euripides,’ Pitakos replied coldly. ‘I could hardly leave without saying goodbye.’

They reached the cave a short time later, and dismounting, Pitakos went into the cave to fetch out the poet.  
Thaletas took the moment to ask Alexios, ‘Is everything alright?’  
Alexios didn’t say anything; he caressed Thaletas’ cheek gently, running a thumb along his cheekbone, depthless sadness in his eyes. Thaletas was almost hypnotised by it – he had no idea why Alexios was sad, and stared into his face wondering.  
The spell was broken when Alexios dropped his hand and stepped away from Thaletas, seeing Euripides coming out of the darkness followed by Pitakos. He forced a smile onto his face and said, ‘Imagine finding the premier poet of Athens lurking in a cave!’  
Euripides smiled tensely. ‘I have always toyed with the idea of writing a rustic play. It may prove to be helpful experience.’ Then he sighed. ‘I’m truly glad to see you, Alexios. I wasn’t sure you’d come.’  
They embraced, and Alexios said, ‘Of course, old friend; but we have to hurry. There was… a stir in Epidaurus.’  
He smiled for a brief moment as he said, ‘With you involved, I’m not surprised!’  
As they were speaking, Pitakos had sidled up to Thaletas and said in an indisputably warm undertone, ‘I’ll be on my way to Sparta. Won’t you come with me, Thaletas? After all these years, I can’t help but think that Aphrodite herself has brought us together once more.’  
Thaletas was blindsided by this declaration; he hadn’t realised, and now that he did, he was horrified. He looked at Alexios, who was standing with his back to them; he hoped that he hadn’t heard Pitakos, but from a certain stiffness to his posture, he knew he had. He said hastily, ‘You don’t understand. Where Alexios goes, I go.’  
Pitakos looked at him in surprise, for the first time realising what Thaletas had failed to mention the last time they’d met. He looked from Thaletas to Alexios and back again. Thaletas saw disbelief in his face, which slowly shifted to something else – hurt… and disgust.  
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Pitakos demanded.  
Alexios slowly turned around then. He looked from Pitakos to Thaletas with a look that would have shamed the gorgon. Thaletas felt that look like a punch to the gut, his face burning.  
‘I didn’t think it was important,’ Thaletas said clumsily, with a hint of pleading in his voice as Alexios walked away towards Phobos.  
Pitakos scowled and mounted his own horse. To Euripides, who had watched this exchange in bemusement, he said farewell, and then rode away without any further words to Thaletas; just one long, regretful, angry look.  
‘Alexios,’ Thaletas said softly, hurrying over to where Alexios was rubbing Phobos’ neck.  
His lover turned, his expression entirely closed. He cut off whatever Thaletas had been about to say. ‘If you’re ready, we have to go; the sooner we’re beyond Argolis, the better.’ After the briefest of pauses, he added, ‘Whatever you think you need to say, it can wait.’  
Thaletas nodded in the face of his curtness, feeling absolutely wretched, and the three men mounted up and rode at speed away towards the Argolis border. 

Thaletas had plenty of time to think about things as they rode north, following the coast, before travelling across country through the forests in the south of Korinthia.  
He was angry with himself for not having seen that Pitakos was holding out hopes; and he was angry with himself for not having told him about Alexios as a matter of course. That he hadn't really bothered him.  
He realised that he’d always known that Pitakos wouldn’t approve of Alexios, and with a sense of shame, he acknowledged that that was a large part of what had made him hold back the truth. Pitakos had taken a hand in training Thaletas back in Sparta, long before they had had their moment, and he’d always had a cautious and wary approach. That was where Thaletas had learnt that way of approaching things himself. Of course, it was the opposite way to how Alexios went about his work, and he’d known that Pitakos would judge him harshly for it – and by extension, judge Thaletas. The idea of being judged negatively by his mentor had pricked at all of the parts of himself that remained Spartan, and he’d thought he was avoiding that by pretending to Pitakos that Alexios was a partner in his work alone.  
This thought was made much worse by the memory of Mikkos, and how Alexios had openly told the drunken caretaker that they were together, despite the wreck that Mikkos had been, and how much Alexios had worried for the consequences to the other man.  
Thaletas sighed. The truth was, he was a coward. Why should he care what his old mentor thought of his choices? His love for Alexios was the best thing in his life; he should have been proud to proclaim it. Instead, in a very real sense, he had betrayed Alexios – and he knew it.  
He looked at Alexios sadly; he was riding ahead of him, the beads in his hair gleaming in the sunlight, head held resolutely high. Thaletas sighed; he had a feeling that explaining all of that to him wouldn’t help matters though. 

The sun was past the meridian when Alexios said tersely, ‘We’re being followed by a mercenary. You two go on ahead. I’ll see who it is and deal with them.’  
Thaletas said, ‘Shall I…’  
Alexios said dismissively, ‘Ride ahead with Euripides.’  
He turned Phobos around and waited. He was in a small clearing; large enough to fight, if need be. He took out his sword, gripping it tightly. It had been his father’s and was his favourite amongst the vast amount of choices he had. For a fleeting moment, the image of Nikolaos, holding Leon in his arms and smiling, came to him; then the rider burst out of the trees.  
The horse reared up, frightened by the sudden appearance of Alexios and Phobos, and nearly threw the rider, who cursed. ‘By Zeus, Alexios, you scared me halfway to Hades!’  
‘Pelias,’ Alexios said, recognising the handsome lieutenant from the Adrestia. He relaxed, sheathing the sword. ‘I was expecting someone after my head.’  
Pelias nodded. ‘I saw them posting the bounty on the noticeboard, so I knew you were close. I’ve been looking for you. Went to Sparta, missed you by a day; Kassandra sent me here.’  
Alexios said with realisation, ‘Of course - Barnabas sent you. I forgot to send him his orders.’  
‘Exactly. He’s in Attika with Leda, and is desperate to get back on the water. We all are, truth be told.’  
Alexios interrupted him. ‘Wait – they’re back on the farm?’  
Pelias nodded, seeing the worried look on his face. ‘I thought you knew Leda returned there at the start of the peace? Barnabas joins her there every winter. Why do you look so concerned about that?’  
‘A Spartan army is on the way to ravage Attika,’ Alexios said briefly.  
Pelias cursed. ‘When?’  
‘In a few days at most.’ Alexios frowned for a moment. ‘There’s nothing else to be done; we’ll have to take a detour, go to the farm and warn Leda and Barnabas. You ride on to the Adrestia and make sure the crew is ready to sail when they reach the coast.’  
Pelias readily agreed. They clasped hands, then both set off on their respective paths: Pelias to the north east and the ships current port, and Alexios to catch up with Thaletas and Euripides and then onwards to Attika.


	5. The Breaking Storm

It was late at night when they approached Leda’s Farm. They had stayed off the roads to be safe, and came at the farm along a ridge of hills, stony and only thinly covered with tenacious grasses and the occasional hardy bush. Below they could see the terraced farmlands of the Plain of Demeter running away along the valley, already burgeoning with crops. Immediately between their position and the farm were three terraces down, a farmyard, the road and then another four terraces up to the farmhouse. Even this late at night, Athenian patrols could be seen moving in both directions along the road at intervals.  
The three men sat for a long time looking over the line of the hill, watching the traffic; that is to say, Thaletas and Alexios watched the traffic, while Euripides laid on his back and looked up at the darkness of the sky, all signs of the stars hidden behind some very ominous looking clouds. He was humming quietly to himself; a habit which ordinarily didn’t bother Alexios, but he was feeling irratable, and so he scowled, wishing he would stop.  
‘Are those horses in the yard of the farm?’ Thaletas asked in a murmur.  
Alexios didn’t reply to that nor look at him; instead he said, ‘I’m going to take a closer look.’  
Thaletas frowned, but if he was going to say anything, he had no chance as Alexios slipped away. It was too dark to watch his progress, so Thaletas went down the hill to where Euripides was, and sat beside him.  
‘He’s in quite a mood,’ the poet observed. ‘Have you talked to him yet?’ He wouldn’t normally have intervened in other people’s relationships, knowing how futile such an attempt almost always proved to be; but the journey so far had been painfully tense, the two mercenaries barely speaking. Alexios sulking, and Thaletas watching him with worried eyes. Euripides was fond of them both, and didn’t like to see them so unhappy.  
Thaletas said quietly, ‘I tried. He said he didn’t want to talk about it.’ This response had worried Thaletas, as in the past they’d always talked about trouble as it arose; but he told himself it was only because Alexios was focussed on their work – and admittedly, the journey had been an anxious one. It was hardly the time to talk about what Thaletas reluctantly acknowledged was a genuine relationship problem. This explanation didn’t make him feel any better about it though.  
Euripides said thoughtfully, ‘It’s not often I’ve seen the kind of devotion that Alexios has for you, you know. He’s only hurt by what happened.’  
Thaletas sighed. He wanted to say that he shouldn’t be, but he knew that wasn’t true.  
Euripides looked at his silhouette for a moment longer in the darkness before recommencing his humming, leaving Thaletas to his unhappy thoughts.

Alexios slipped down the hillside, passing through crops and vaulting the low stone fences until he reached the level of the road and the yard of a small house, replete with chickens, who eyed him menacingly. By the gods he hated chickens, he thought as he eyed them back.  
He waited for a patrol to pass, then slipped across the road and over a stone wall then up another few terraces, until he reached a reed fence which served to enclose a small area outside the main gateway of the farmstead yard. The horses they had been able to see from the hilltop were on the other side of the fence, three of them.  
He crouched in a shrub which stood beside the reed fence, and considered what to do. The horses weren’t farm animals, which suggested that the men who rode them were soldiers, and were no doubt nearby.  
It began to rain then, and there was a flurry of activity in the yard. Peeping through a hole in the fence, Alexios could see three Athenian soldiers moving towards the gateway, being shepherded by Barnabas. They were all entirely drunk, even the strategos in the lead was weaving as they came towards their horses.  
The strategos said, ‘Thank you, good sir, for the wine.’ He’d emerged into the yard, and looked up at the sky as if he was surprised it was night time. ‘How late is it?’  
Barnabas laughed cheerily. ‘Does it matter?’  
The strategos said, ‘I suppose not. It’s not like that wretched poet is going to still be in the neighbourhood is it?’  
One of the light armoured soldiers with him said, ‘You shouldn’t speak so loudly, sir. Who knows who’s listening?’  
The strategos burst out into laughter, and said, ‘Damon, you are hilarious. It’s raining, it’s late – who in their right mind is going to be lurking in a bush listening to us? Certainly not a poet!’ He laughed again, and said, ‘Euripides! In a bush!’  
He was still laughing as the three men rode away, Barnabas watching them go with a grimace.  
When they’d reached the road, Alexios vaulted the reed fence.  
Barnabas sprang aside, not at first recognising him, then laughing at his own shock. ‘Alexios! When I sent Pelias to speak with you, I hardly expected you to come yourself!’  
Alexios smiled and patted his shoulder. ‘Let’s get out of this rain.’ They turned into the yard, and he continued, ‘The patrol was looking for Euripides?’  
Barnabas snorted. ‘As if he’d be here! An Athenian poet, lurking in a farmhouse! Ridiculous!’  
Alexios said, ‘Well – about that…’  
Barnabas looked at him sharply. ‘You don’t mean…?’  
Alexios nodded, looking a little sheepish. He gestured back the way he’d come. ‘He’s up the hill with Thaletas. I came to make sure the coast is clear.’  
Barnabas chuckled and shook his head. ‘Of course he is! Bring them down then. There’s no one else here to worry about.’ More seriously, he asked, ‘You don’t think to keep him here, do you?’  
‘No – I’ve been tasked with getting him to Makedonia – we’ll be here until tomorrow night at the latest.’  
He nodded. ‘Put him in the storeroom. Even if the patrol comes back, which I doubt, they won’t look in there.’  
Alexios thanked him, then said, ‘Before I send Ikaros to fetch them – there’s something you and Leda need to know which I’d rather Euripides didn’t hear.’  
Barnabas said, ‘She’s inside. This way.’ He ushered Alexios through a door, into the double storey building on the left of the yard, which Alexios knew to be the family quarters.  
Inside, Leda was sitting beside a brazier, gazing at the licking flames, but she looked up as they entered. She stood and came to greet Alexios by grasping both his hands. ‘Chaire, Alexios. We didn’t know you were coming?’  
‘I hadn’t intended to, but I have bad news. The Spartan army is coming.’  
Barnabas exclaimed, ‘By the Gods!’  
Leda grew pale, and asked, ‘When?’  
‘A matter of days,’ Alexios said with compassion. ‘You’ll need to leave while you still can.’  
She dropped his hands and stepped back, a look of great worry on her face. She said softly, ‘It’s been eight summers since they last burnt the fields; I had hoped that that time would be the last.’  
Alexios slowly shook his head. ‘If the plans they’ve made bear fruit, it will be a regular occurrence in the coming years – as long as it takes to bring Athens to her knees.’  
‘Malaka,’ she said, looking at Barnabas. After a long moment, she said, ‘Thank you for warning us. I know it’s a breach of your loyalty…’  
Alexios interrupted quietly. ‘My loyalty is to my family, not to Sparta.’ He sighed wishing that the two things weren’t so indivisible. He then continued, ‘I sent Pelias to get the Adrestia ready. They’ll be there when you reach the coast.’  
‘Thank you,’ Leda said absently as she resumed her seat by the brazier, rubbing her hands in worry.  
Alexios said to Barnabas, ‘I’ll need you to bring the Adrestia to Amphipolis to collect me, but take as long as you need to get Leda out of harm’s way. I can wait.’  
Leda said with decision, ‘We’ll go to Lemnos; Neleus has said we’re always welcome there.’ She sighed, ‘I’d hoped we would never have to take him up on that offer!’ Then with more resolve in her voice, she assured Alexios, ‘The Adrestia will be in Amphipolis before you.’  
Alexios nodded, and said, ‘I’ll just step outside to send Ikaros to fetch the two from the hillside.’  
‘Two?’ Leda asked.  
Alexios nodded. ‘Barnabas will explain.’ 

Late that night, or perhaps early in the morning, Thaletas was woken by a loud crack of thunder. He sat up, and for a moment couldn’t remember where he was; then he saw the small square of the window light up with lightning, and remembered that he was upstairs in the sleeping quarters on Leda’s farm; several pallets were laid out around him; the one next to him, intended for Alexios, had been empty when he’d fallen asleep; he looked over, expecting to see Alexios there now, but another flash of lightning told him he wasn’t.  
He sighed and stood, too awake and worried to sleep again. Pulling his cloak close about himself, he walked over to the window. The rain was really coming down, and for a long moment, he could see nothing but the lights of the sanctuary of Eleusis in the distance, glowing orange in the darkness; but in the sharp crackle of another bolt of lightning, the land between was lit as bright as daylight. He could see the buildings on the other side of the yard, and even the outbuildings beside the silos beyond. It was only after the lightning had come and gone another few times that he noticed Alexios.  
He was standing atop the tallest silo, motionless. It was hard to tell what he was doing in the intermittent light. After a moment, he disappeared, presumably returning to ground level.  
Thaletas went down the ladder that led to the floor below, and opened the door to the outside. The rain had eased a little, and looking to his right, he saw Alexios come into the torchlight of the storage area outside the gateway. He stepped outside, closing the door behind him.  
‘What were you doing up there?’ he asked, startling Alexios, who hadn’t heard his approach. He was sitting on a chest in the torchlight, taking off his shoes.  
He said quietly, ‘I was checking the road.’ He dropped his shoes to the ground and moved to the far side of the grain store. He settled onto a stack of grain sacks, pulling a bear pelt over himself; then he looked at Thaletas and asked, ‘Was there something else?’  
Thaletas found that he really wasn’t sure how to approach Alexios in this kind of mood; his sadness was like a wall. He asked, ‘Why are you sleeping out here on a night like this?’  
Alexios said, ‘The rain is passing. It’ll be fine by morning.’  
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’  
He sighed. ‘You know the answer to your question.’  
‘You’re upset with me because Pitakos wanted me to go to Sparta with him? Do you really blame me for that?’  
‘I do,’ Alexios said quietly.  
‘How was I to know he still harboured those kinds of wishes?’ Thaletas asked, absurdly feeling relieved that Alexios was finally talking about it, despite dreading where the conversation might lead.  
Alexios glanced at him, then away again. He said, ‘For one, it was obvious. For another, you did nothing to make him think it was out of the question.’  
Thaletas flushed. ‘You mean I should have told him about you last summer?’  
‘Don’t you?’ Alexios asked.  
Thaletas said, ‘Maybe I should have told him; but it honestly never seemed important. I didn’t know he still had feelings for me. Honestly Alexios, I didn’t know!’  
Alexios sighed, pulling the pelt closer around himself and closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Yes, you should have told him, but why didn’t you? I see now that you’re ashamed of me.’  
Thaletas blurted, ‘That’s not true!’  
Alexios looked at him sadly. ‘Really? What’s the truth then, Thaletas?’  
Thaletas groped for a way to explain, but he hadn’t reached any clarity himself, so he said vaguely, ‘It’s not about you… not really. You know my feelings about Sparta are complicated; Pitakos is somehow caught up with that...’  
Alexios gave him a look then that froze the words in his mouth. It felt like the years had melted away and they were still standing opposite one another in the villa on Mykonos; Alexios was looking at him with the same reproachful expression, full of sadness and betrayal.  
He said quietly, ‘Tomorrow, I think it’d be best if you went with Leda and Barnabas. I’ll take Euripides north alone.’  
Thaletas gaped at him. ‘You can’t be serious!’  
‘I’ve never been more serious,’ Alexios said softly.  
‘No,’ Thaletas said, the lump in his throat burring his voice. ‘I don’t want that. I love you.’  
Alexios felt his resolution crumbling away; it was killing him to see Thaletas falling apart, and despite himself, he said, ‘I love you too; but right now, I need time to think. I can’t do that with you near me.’  
For a long moment the two men just looked at one another.  
Alexios could have drowned in the love that he saw in Thaletas’ eyes. He had enough self-knowledge to know he’d metaphorically barricaded himself into the familiar, miserable corner he’d inhabited before, feeling unworthy of Thaletas’ love; but he was stubborn, and refused to come out. For all that, whatever his lover had said or done, Alexios could not stop himself feeling that love creeping back into his heart, wrapping itself around it, warming the chill that he’d allowed to settle there.  
Thaletas saw in Alexios’ eyes that the source of all of this was his ingrained sense of being unlovable and his eternal expectation of suffering, which he’d carried with him out of his past straight into their relationship. They’d had arguments about it more than once, usually because Thaletas was irritated by Alexios’ saying that he didn’t deserve him, or that it was a matter of time before he left him. He was always expecting to be abandoned, and only Thaletas’ insistent and persistent love could bring him back from that grim place. He didn’t know how he might do that from a distance, but he had to respect what Alexios wanted.  
With a deep breath, he put his own fears aside. Firmly, he said, ‘Alright, I’ll go; but if you think I’ve given up on you Alexios, then you’re wrong. I’ll be waiting for you in Amphipolis.’  
Alexios nodded, for a moment feeling the urge to tell him not to go after all, the urge to take him into his arms and lose himself in that comforting warmth; but then he reminded himself of his hurt – like poking a wound – and he hardened his resolve. He said quietly, ‘Thank you.’

The next morning, Thaletas woke late, having laid awake for a long time thinking. He hurried to join Barnabas downstairs, guiltily apologising for not getting up earlier.  
Barnabas said easily, ‘Don’t worry. I heard you come in during the night.’ Then he asked, ‘So, what’s going on? I heard Alexios and Euripides ride out before dawn.’  
Thaletas said firmly, ‘Alexios thought it’d be best if one of us travelled with you and Leda. We’ll meet up again in Amphipolis.’  
Barnabas said, ‘I meant, what’s going on between you two?’  
Thaletas sighed. ‘We had an argument – it started back in Epidaurus.’ He told Barnabas the bare facts of what had occurred, and finished by saying with a shrug, ‘He tells me he needs some time apart, and I respect his wishes.’  
Barnabas rested a hand on his shoulder, and said comfortingly, ‘Don’t worry. I know Alexios. He’ll come around. You’ll see.’  
Thaletas nodded and said with more confidence than he felt, ‘I know. Now – show me where I can be most helpful.’  
He spent the day working, loading up Leda’s possessions onto carts, shepherding her goats into a yard in preparation for the move the following day, and fielding questions from curious neighbours and soldiers.  
Like a blessing from the gods, being busy and working at the most basic of labours drove all the worries from his mind, and he found that he was even cheerful. Besides anything else, Barnabas was so unceasingly positive, it was impossible to remain sullen around him.  
That night, as he laid down to sleep, he sent a prayer up to Hermes to watch over Alexios on his journey; he’d barely finished the thought when sleep claimed him.


	6. The Salt Sea

Two days later, the Adrestia was waiting as promised for the refugees off the coast of Salamis, having come up from Kechries where it had wintered. Thaletas had had little rest in those days. It had been his task to shepherd the goats to the coast, while Barnabas and Leda took care of the two carts.   
Perhaps it was only that the goats took against him, but to begin with, they would stop at every patch of green grass to graze, and when he tried to urge them onwards, the leader of the herd – a large buck with curling horns - would eye him with absolute disdain. Eventually they moved away from the settlements along the valley of the Plains of Demeter into drier country; but then the buck changed his misbehaviour: every time he thought Thaletas wasn’t close enough to stop them, he’d make a bid for freedom, and break away from the pack with a gleeful jump. The others, opportunists as they were, would immediately follow.   
With the sound of Leda and Barnabas’ laughter following him, what ensued was a trial of stamina: Thaletas would race after the stampeding herd, trying to get in front of the buck and thus turn them back from their mad dash.   
By the time they reached the coast, he was exhausted and had developed an intense dislike for goats – the buck of this herd in particular.  
Pelias and a portion of the crew were waiting for them at the agreed meeting place. He greeted them each in turn, but then took Leda’s hands. He said softly and earnestly, ‘You got away safely. I’m glad.’  
Thaletas’ brows shot up. He’d never seen Pelias the so-called Seductive working his charms. He looked at Leda, who he noticed was a little flushed. He smiled to himself.   
Leda, defying her red face, said coolly, ‘Thank you, Pelias.’  
Barnabas eyed Pelias coolly himself, and said to the crew, ‘Get to work, lads. The sooner we’re loaded the better.’

When everything had been transported to the ship, including the goats who were penned on the deck, the sun was already well past the meridian. Barnabas was looking at the sky to the south with a worried frown.  
Thaletas observed, ‘You look concerned.’  
Barnabas nodded slightly. ‘There’s a storm coming.’  
Thaletas had learnt to trust Barnabas’ instincts for these things. He said, ‘Should we delay until tomorrow to sail?’  
Barnabas shook his head. ‘No. We’ll just have to stay close to the coast once we get around Cape Sounion.’ He smiled, and patted Thaletas’ shoulder, before calling out to the crew, ‘To your stations! Drop the sail!’

As they sailed along the coast of Salamis and Aegina to the cape, the sky remained a clear blue; but as soon as they emerged into the sea around the cape, the water grew choppy, and a strong wind sprang up from the south west, coming from the direction of the Peloponnese.   
It was late afternoon when they caught sight of Keos ahead, intending to shelter from the storm there; but they were too late. The waves were surging into great green humps, higher even than the ships mast, and the rain was so heavy, they could no longer see more than a few paces to either side of the ship. The goats were bleating pitifully, the timbers of the ship groaned, the wind was a harpy screaming in hatred.   
The ominous darkness was broken only by intermittent shafts of lightning. Thunder rumbled across the sky, so loud it reverberated in Thaletas’ very bones where he clung to the railing on the bridge. He was soaked by the waves that surged over the deck; his eyes squeezed shut. He’d opened them for a moment earlier, as the Adrestia had been heaving upwards on the back of a huge wave. In a flash of lightning he’d seen the sailors on the deck, which had risen up before him at a wild angle, seeming to defy the rules of reality, the sailors clinging to any handhold they could; the ship had seemed to hang suspended in time for a moment, then he’d seen a great green chasm open up, and the ship began to fall into it.   
He’d closed his eyes again, certain then that they were all going to die, swallowed by the sea, Poseidon taking his due at last for all the safe journeys he had vouchsafed the ship and her crew in the past.

At some point in the night, as the storm raged on with unabating fury, there was a crunching sound, and the Adrestia gave a lurch to starboard, but then stopped moving. No one could see what they had run aground on, though there was no doubt that that was what had happened; there was a danger that there was damage below and that the hold would be filling up with water; or that they would be overwhelmed by the waves that still beat at them full on the port side; but there was nothing that any of them could do about it. As time passed, and the ship remained immobile, Thaletas felt the slightest ray of hope that they had somehow been saved.

It was the longest night of his life, but the storm eventually receded into the north, though the inky dark remained until the first fingers of dawn revealed the cloud breaking apart above them.  
Thaletas had dozed off out of sheer exhaustion; the daylight woke him, and with every muscle in his body aching, he stood unsteadily, the deck at an angle that made the world feel like it had come askew in the night. He looked up at the island which rose up above them, and identified it by the Sanctuary of Apollo to the north silhouetted against the pink morning sky: Delos.   
For a long moment, he stared up at the sanctuary, then he started to laugh; in part, out of sheer relief that they were all still alive, but also at the irony of washing up on this island, of all places, when things were in such a state with Alexios. The gods were surely laughing at him.  
He staggered upwards, towards the side of the ship that was higher than the other, as he could hear voices from that direction. He looked over the edge, and saw Barnabas below, consulting with the ship’s carpenters and some of the crew.  
Thaletas jumped down to join them, and then saw the damage which the Adrestia had taken. There was a hole where the ship had come to rest against a large boulder which thrust out of the beach and had thereafter been repeatedly smashed against it by the waves; some of the planking had sprung; but Barnabas, coming to join him, said, ‘Not bad, considering.’  
Thaletas nodded. His voice was raspy with the salt water he had inadvertently swallowed during the night. ‘I’d expected worse.’  
He nodded. ‘We should all make an offering to Artemis and Apollo for saving us. Only the gods could have pulled us through that – and brought us safely here.’ He gestured out to sea, and Thaletas looked, seeing what he meant. Had they come towards the island a little further south, they’d have hit the atoll with its rocky coast, which would have punctured the ship and sent them immediately to the bottom of the sea; the same would have happened had they hit a little further north, where the thrusting white rocks plunged straight into the water without any beach to buffer the blow.   
He said, ‘I think I will.’  
Barnabas slapped his shoulder. ‘No need to hurry back, either. Take your time. It’ll be a couple of days before the Adrestia’s ready to sail again.’

Thaletas stopped at the waterfall which came down from the mountain nearby to wash the worst of the salt off himself, and then made his way up the steep hillside towards the road he knew ran along the crest into the sanctuary; he reached it then turned to his left, and for the first time, saw the Archegesion of Delos in the far distance.   
The sight was bittersweet, as it had always been after he and Alexios had spent a glorious day of lovemaking amongst it’s ruins. He smiled wistfully as he walked towards the sanctuary, remembering that day. Alexios had been amazing, his powerful body turned golden by the low slanting rays of a perfect sunset as he had pulled Thaletas into his powerful embrace, every thought fleeting away. Thaletas had never known such peace before then, such powerful bliss, his whole body singing in the afterglow of desire fulfilled. He shook his head lightly. He’d thought at the time that there could be no greater moment of perfection in life, but now he knew better.  
He reached the main thoroughfare through the sanctuary, and he followed it, led by the force of his memories to the statue of Apollo beside the Sacred Lake. The water was bright blue against the whiteness of the shore; and for a moment he smiled, heart full of happy memories, of their first kiss.  
He couldn’t remember how it had come about, really. Though they’d been flirting outrageously for weeks, Thaletas had only slowly become certain that Alexios was flirting with real intent, and that his own feelings were returned – feelings which had overwhelmed him the moment he’d laid eyes on Alexios in the Spartan camp fighting Athenians and surrounded by fire like some kind of blazing comet. As the days had passed, he’s noticed that Alexios’ looks had begun to linger longer, and with his heart hammering in his chest, Thaletas had started to return them, unable to truly believe it was happening.   
Then they had met here, early in the morning beside the sacred lake, Alexios having taken out three Athenian polemarches during the night. Thaletas could no longer recall exactly what he’d said to Alexios, something flirtatious no doubt, when the misthios had suddenly declared in a warm, caressing voice that he wanted him to be his forever. Thaletas had flushed, acutely conscious of his two men who were right there watching, and half a dozen worshippers who were eyeing up the Spartans resentfully. As only Alexios would, he seemed to forget their existence, and he’d taken Thaletas’ face in his hands and kissed him for the first time, his lips at once gentle and insistent, so certain of himself and what they both knew they wanted, that Thaletas had given in to his own desires, and felt everything else fade away. He’d murmured that Alexios should meet him later, and then the misthios had disappeared, running off, he said, to kill a giant bear. The men had stared, but Thaletas had been so filled with joy, he’d just smiled at them, and told them to go back to Mykonos where he would join them later. He realised now that they must have gone straight to Kyra, but he should have expected that.  
He sighed at the thought Kyra, and pushing that aside, went towards the ruins.

About halfway up the mountainside, he passed the place he’d sat that morning long before, waiting for Alexios to come to him. He’d stood for a long time looking out at Mykonos, the statue of Athena dominating the small island – he looked out at it now, the scene just as it had been, as though no time had passed at all. The hopes and fears that had plagued him during that wait made him smile now; that he had said too much, or not enough; and the ridiculous notion that Alexios would change his mind; but at the same time, so full of hope and anticipation.  
As he reached the ruins at the peak of the mountain, the early morning sun filled the place with gentle warmth and he looked around, still smiling. He had once spent a lot of time there – things had changed since then though. The weeds had grown everywhere; the place where he had been used to train, and had sparred with Alexios, was covered over now.  
His eyes were drawn to the place where they’d laid out bear pelts and made slow, gentle, exploratory love; where, sated, he’d fallen into a doze, his head resting on Alexios’ shoulder; but when he’d woken, Alexios had gone. He’d sat up, confused; then from above he’d heard him say, ‘I’m up here.’  
He’d looked upwards, to the top of the double columns and seen Alexios, as naked as the day he was born standing up there, the sun gleaming against his skin. He’d grinned down at him. ‘I was just checking out the view,’ he said, then jumped off the column into a stack of hay at its foot.   
At the time, Thaletas had been amazed that he could climb up there; but now, he looked up at the columns, and in a few deft moves, climbed one himself.   
The view was amazing. Laid out all around him was the sea, scattered with islands. It made the world seem so much smaller than it really was, to view it from such a height. He’d come to believe when he’d started climbing with Alexios that his perception of the world was coloured by this ability to view it from the highest, hardest to reach places.   
‘What are you doing up there?’ A familiar voice came to him from below, and he turned reluctantly, looking down into the Archegesion. Below, Kyra was looking up at him, frowning. ‘Are you trying to kill yourself? Come down!’  
He sighed and dived into the haystack that still lay below. He heard a squeal as he did so, but then a gasp of relief when he landed.   
‘Chaire, Kyra,’ he said tentatively, as he came around the columns. ‘It’s been a long time. Have you come to kill me?’ He saw that she had some lines in her face, and a touch of grey hair at her temples, but was otherwise still very much herself.   
She stared at him for a moment but didn’t at first answer the question. ‘You look so different to how I remember you,’ she said quietly, tilting her head a little. ‘You cut off your braid.’  
He said, ‘Yes – many years ago now.’  
She was still looking at his face, studying the changes she saw there as she said, ‘I haven’t come to kill you, so you can stop hovering your hand near your sword. I heard the Adrestia was run aground. I expected to find Alexios, but Barnabas told me it was only you aboard. I knew I’d find you here.’   
Thaletas nodded. ‘Yes, Alexios is on another job. I’m meeting him in Amphipolis at the end of the season.’ He watched her face, looking for any sign of her feelings about what that implied, but there was nothing to see.  
She saw what he was thinking and said carefully, ‘I heard that you two were working together, Thaletas. I know what that means, even if others don’t.’ She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she said, ‘I came here to tell you I’m glad for you.’  
He raised one eyebrow doubtfully. ‘You are?’  
She nodded. ‘I mean it. I said such things to you back then. I was crazy.’ She looked out towards Mykonos. ‘It was all such a terrible time. Pater was dead, the islands were in chaos, and you…’ She sighed. ‘I knew I’d lost you, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. When I knew it was no use, and that I must let you go too, well… I wanted you to feel my pain. It was unfair of me to treat you that way.’  
He sighed too and said softly, ‘I never blamed you, Kyra. I know it was my fault.’  
‘No,’ she said, quietly but forcefully. ‘There is no one to blame. The gods brought Alexios here, I always knew that. If he’d never come, the rebellion would never have succeeded. I should have been grateful; but I never really was because I saw him taking you from me. That’s why I hoped he was here today, so I could tell him that; but you’ll have to tell him on my behalf.’  
Thaletas nodded. ‘I will.’  
She thanked him, then said, ‘There’s a house in town that I’ve offered to Barnabas and Leda for their use as long as you’re here; feel free to use it yourself. It’s near the treasuries, the first on the left after the terrace of lions.’  
He thanked her, and she walked away then, her head held high.   
When she was gone, he sank down onto a block of stone, and closed his eyes, now absolutely certain that the gods were playing with him. The relief he felt that she bore him no ill-will, understood what had torn them apart, was an unlooked-for blessing; but it also made him more acutely conscious that the love that had destroyed them may well have destroyed itself, too. The days of hard work and exhaustion, the night of near death at the hands of Poseidon, his deep longing for Alexios, and now this cathartic conversation with Kyra…   
After a long moment, he gathered himself and stood again, turning back towards the sanctuary. With quick steps, he went with determination to make those offerings to the gods in the hopes that they might turn their attentions onto someone else for a while. He needed a rest.


	7. Mykalessos

It took Alexios and Euripides several days to reach Thebes. They’d cut across country from Leda’s Farm until they reached the ruins of Plataea and entered Boeotian territory. Alexios intended that they would continue travelling east until they reached the coast, then follow the Euripus channel northwards, past lake Kopais and into Lokris, then onwards into Malis.  
Going that way had distinct advantages: they would avoid travelling through Phokis, which was strongly pro-Athenian, and being the shortest route, they would reach their destination that much sooner; but it also had its problems; the riding was very rough, and Euripides was not built for that kind of travel.  
By the time they reached Thebes, Euripides had become more withdrawn than usual, and Alexios, who’d been watching him closely, was growing concerned. In the first day of their journey from Leda’s Farm, Euripides had been suffering from the normal aches caused by a long journey; but since then, it had become obvious that something else was going on. He ate less and less, and Alexios caught a look of pain crossing his face sometimes that seemed too strong for simple muscle aches. It was a risk to enter the city, but they hadn’t laid on a pallet since the farm, and Alexios was hopeful that Euripides might be helped by a decent night’s sleep.  
He was thinking about this as he waited at the blacksmith, having a few small repairs done. He’d been struck by the subdued air about the city, and even in the dusky hours when people tended to come together to chat and eat, the streets were quiet.  
Alexios knew that the best measuring stick for discontent in a region was the attitude of the blacksmith, so he asked the smith casually, ‘Any news of the war?’  
He was a squat man with a sour face; he said, ‘You’ll have heard, I suppose, that Sparta’s ravaging Attika with a large force of men. It’s about bloody time! The allies have been urging them to take action since last summer when Korinthia sent their hoplites to Sicilia. Typical Sparta though, never lifting a finger to help their allies unless it suits them.’ He spat, making Alexios wrinkle his nose. ‘Even this raiding party has a typically dual purpose – they say they’re doing it for the allies, but they’re planning to fortify that village, Dekelia. You can’t tell me we shouldn’t be concerned here in Thebes about that.’  
Alexios asked carefully, ‘But Dekelia’s in Attika, isn’t it?’  
The blacksmith shook his head. ‘It is; but if the Spartans thought we wouldn’t notice it’s just as close to Boeotia and it is to Athens, then they really are fools.’  
Alexios frowned. He hadn’t thought about that before, and he wondered if those who had proposed its location had. One thing he did know, Agis was certainly not wrong about the wavering loyalties of the region.  
The blacksmith saw his frown, and narrowed his eyes. ‘You aren’t a Spartan, are you?’  
Alexios said crisply, ‘No. I’m Arkadian.’  
The blacksmith eyes him for a moment, but said no more, clearly not convinced and probably worried about what he had already said. He set about his task, leaving Alexios to pet Ikaros and worry about Euripides, Thaletas, and what was going to become of them all. 

Back at the guesthouse, Alexios paused for a moment in the doorway, looking along the street before he went in purely out of habit, seeing that all was quiet and that he wasn’t followed. He went over to a pallet beside Euripides, who was laying down with his eyes closed.  
‘I’ve brought you some bread,’ he said, offering Euripides a piece.  
The poet opened his eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you, but no. I have an uneasy stomach. All the travel, I suppose.’ He closed his eyes again, wincing slightly.  
Alexios looked him over with concern. ‘Euripides – are you sure you’re well?’  
He said, ‘Of course, my friend. I’m just tired. I’ll be better for a night in a bed.’  
Alexios didn’t comment on the contradiction in what he’d said, only frowned in worry, chewing unhappily at his bread. He wished that Hippocrates was still in the city, but he’d heard from Euripides himself that the famous physician was on Kos, where in his older years he’d dedicated himself to teaching at the medical school he’d founded there.  
Alexios sighed deeply, and stretched out on the pallet. He didn’t have much hope that he’d sleep, but he did anyway.

In the morning, Euripides was already awake when Alexios rose. He found him leaning against a railing outside, swaying slightly. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy.  
‘How are you feeling?’ Alexios asked.  
Euripides smiled wanly. ‘I feel a little better, I think.’  
Alexios didn’t think he looked better at all, but considerably worse. He said, ‘We don’t have to hurry onwards, you know. We’re beyond Athens’ reach here. If you need more rest…’  
Euripides shook his head and said, ‘I’m fine. Let’s carry on.’  
Reluctantly, Alexios agreed, and they mounted up.  
They rode out of Thebes, following the road at a very leisurely pace for Euripides’ sake. Alexios rode behind him so that he could keep a close eye on him. As they drew near to the walled town of Mykalessos, the poet began talking to himself in a low voice; Alexios frowned, but assumed he was composing a poem so he didn’t say anything; then Euripides suddenly toppled sideways off his horse, falling to the ground with a thump.  
‘Euripides!’ Alexios gasped in alarm, leapt from Phobos and rushed to the place where his friend lay slumped in the road. The poet had his eyes open, but he looked at Alexios unseeing. He was mumbling to himself, something about thunderheads; Alexios picked him up, and noticed that he was burning hot. Alexios cursed. The malaka had a fever, he thought. That would explain the glassy eyes. Why hadn’t he just said so?  
He carefully placed the poet over the saddle of his horse, and rode into Mykalessos.  
He accosted the first man he met, demanding to know if there was a healer in the town. He was directed to a woman named Apollodora, who Alexios was relieved to hear, had been a student of Hippocrates. She lived at the top of the town in a double storey wooden home with a small clinic out the front.  
She seemed unsurprised by their arrival, and in a gentle voice, calmed Alexios.  
‘There’s been a lot of sickness this spring,’ she said soothingly, ‘usually accompanied by a fever. It has not in many cases proceeded to a fatal end; those cases that did were not as strong as your friend. You have every cause for hope.’  
‘Thank you,’ Alexios said sincerely. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you in thanks?’  
She considered this. ‘I was meant to deliver these medical supplies to a fisherman down on the coast. Would you take them in my stead?’  
He readily agreed; and after saying goodbye to Euripides, who didn’t hear him, he went.

As Alexios rode back out of the town, almost without realising he was doing it, he assessed the town’s defences. He noticed that, though the town had walls, they were built low in places and in a very poor state of repair generally; and the gates probably hadn’t been closed in years to judge by the weeds that grew against them. He tutted to himself. This part of the country might be far from the general thrust of war as it had happened up until this point, but he would have expected these shortcomings to have been addressed just in case – particularly as Boeotia was now Sparta’s only strong ally north of Attika.  
He rode across country towards the stretch of coast that overlooked Euboea and the Euripus channel, where he had been told he would find the fisherman. He took a meandering course; after all, he thought, once he returned to Mykalessos, he’d be left hanging around for who knew how long. There was no hurry. He spent some time scrounging for iron and olive wood, and he killed a few wolves for their skins. He intended to spend some of that idle time making more arrows.  
It was late afternoon when he finally reached the fisherman, who was standing on the shore, a line out into the sea, a basket of fish at his feet. The old man had naught to his name but a tent and a small boat pulled up on the shore, and an unhappy wife who didn’t look up from her digging for shellfish in the beach when Alexios arrived.  
Alexios, not for the first time, wondered how anyone could endure such a life.  
‘Chaire. I’ve brought your medicine from Apollodora,’ Alexios said cheerfully.  
‘I can’t pay you,’ the fisherman said, his voice as ragged as a rocky coast. He had the world-weary eyes of a man who had seen too much. Alexios wondered what his story might be, but didn’t ask.  
‘It’s not necessary,’ Alexios assured him, holding out the herbs.  
The man looked at him in surprise but took them from him anyway. ‘I took you for a misthios.’  
Alexios smiled, and was just turning away when the fishermen said, ‘Well, would you look at that.’  
Alexios turned back to look at him with his eyebrows raised, and he pointed out into the channel. Following this gesture, Alexios saw what he meant and muttered, ‘Interesting…’  
A fleet of ships, impossible to tell how many, but at least thirty, Alexios thought. They were coming across the strait, perhaps from Euboea, but more likely from the south.  
The sun had begun to set, and the ships were dropping anchor a short distance offshore. This was a common enough sight – many captains chose not to sail at night in unfamiliar waters. That suggested they weren’t local, Alexios thought. He sent Ikaros to check, and it was only then that he was able to see the insignia they carried. He said thoughtfully, ‘They’re not Athenians, nor Euboeans. They’re Thracian mercenaries from the north of Malis.’  
The fisherman muttered darkly, ‘Come to make trouble, no doubt.’  
Alexios shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’  
He said chaire to the fisherman and mounted Phobos, turning back towards Mykalessos.  
He rode slowly. The mercenaries might be there to make trouble, that was true, but he doubted there was any immediate danger. Most likely they were just anchoring for the night before carrying on to wherever they were going; or it was possible they were coming to lay siege to Thebes, in which case they were the forward force which would ravage the countryside until the Athenians arrived.  
In either case, they would do nothing until daylight tomorrow, and it would take them time to come ashore in the morning; he would have plenty of time to ride back to Thebes in the morning to warn the leader there. In the meantime, he’d check on Euripides and get some sleep.

Alexios was awoken by a scream. He and Euripides were sleeping in a tent near Apollodora’s clinic, and as he jolted into a sitting position, he took in in an instant that it was not yet daylight but there was some hint of dawn in the sky; that the air was cold; and that there was the patter of rainfall on the tent roof. He glanced at Euripides who was tossing and turning beside him, wondering if it had been him who’d screamed out in his delirium… but then a series of ominous sounds reached him from the town below – shouting, more screams, the sound of children crying. Something was very wrong, and he knew then that he had guessed incorrectly: The Thracians must have come to Mykalessos – though how they had reached the town so quickly he could hardly guess.  
He sprung out of the tent, just as Apollodora came out of her house; they looked at each other and then hurried to the edge of the terrace outside her house to look down on the town; but they could see nothing of what was happening, though they could hear the screams and shouts, enough to tell Alexios that the sick and Apollodora needed to go – immediately.  
‘Do you have a cart?’ he asked. She nodded. ‘Have it fetched, load the sick onto it. Get to Thebes. I’ll come to you there.’  
Apollodora was used to crises, and took the orders in with absolute calm, so that Alexios was sure she would do as he had asked. He thanked her, then coolly sprung over the terrace, and went down into the town.  
He could guess from the number of ships he had seen there might be as many as two thousand Thracian mercenaries attacking; he knew he would never be able to stop them, but if he could at least delay them for a time, some of the populace would be able to get safely away out of the north gate.  
People were running frantically away from the southern gate, so that was where he went. As he approached the area, armed men were already sacking houses and temples, even a school. The bodies of people who had been killed – he tried not to look too closely, but he saw men, women and children – were laying here and there. It was outrageous; he felt his anger rise, that thing inside of himself that was at once aggressive but intensely focussed kicked in; his adrenaline peaked, and he shouted a challenge to the nearest Thracian. Then it was on.  
He couldn’t say how long he fought at the gate; it was a melee to outdo any other. Sometimes he was fighting ten men at once, sometimes only two or three. He saw that enemies continued to stream past him; but he tried not to think about what was going on in the rest of the town; remaining focussed on what he could do, not what he couldn’t.  
At last he began to flag, exhaustion slowing him, until he failed to dodge a well-aimed heavy bladed weapon which nearly broke his leg. He took this as his queue to go, and leaping out of the scrum onto the wall, he raced away along the palisade, before leaping safely outside the town. He whistled for Phobos, and with all possible speed, he cantered for Thebes.

When he arrived, he found a force of cavalry already assembling at the gates. The few refugees who had escaped Mykalessos had hurried straight to the Spartan Leader, and he’d wasted no time in assembling a force of cavalry and archers.  
He saw Alexios’ approach with horror. Alexios wasn’t aware of how totally covered in blood he was, some of which was definitely his own. With a voice that was as strong and forceful as ever though, he said, ‘You’re the leader here?’  
‘Yes. I’m Scirphondas.’  
‘You’re riding to Mykalessos yourself?’  
Scirphondas said, ‘Yes – soon.’  
Alexios nodded curtly. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’  
The leader said with concern, ‘You need medical assistance, misthios.’  
Alexios shook his head and said grimly, ‘I’ve seen what they’re doing in that town. I’m coming with you. If we go now, we may trap some of them still inside the walls.’  
Scirphondas said, ‘We’re just waiting on the rest of the archers to fetch their arms.’ Then he suggested, ‘You might take the moment to clean yourself up?’  
Alexios nodded curtly, and went to a fountain nearby to wash. He scooped water up and over his face, seeing it tint the water in the fountain red. He looked down at his armour, for the first time noticing that it was covered in blood and gore, and then he understood why the leader had looked so alarmed at his condition. He grimaced, and sat on the edge of the cistern to get a good look at the wound to his leg. The bleeding had stopped. It would leave a large scar, but that was nothing new. He wrapped a cursory strip of cloth around it to stop it getting dirty, but remained determined to ride with the Thebans.

It was mid-morning when Alexios and the Thebans reached Mykalessos, and by then, most of the Thracians had moved on.  
As they entered the town, they found only a handful of greedy mercenaries still scrounging amongst the ruins, and these were quickly despatched. Alexios rode through the town, seeing the devastation everywhere. The town had been put to the torch and razed almost to the ground. Only skeletal arms of broken-down walls were left, reaching out of the earth. A great cloud of smoke enveloped the town. There were piles of dead everywhere. Some of what those bastards had done, especially to the children, was so hideous that even Alexios, hardened to the horrors of war as he was, had to look away. It was as grim as Hades.  
He returned to Scirphondas. The leader, and every one of the men that had ridden with him bore the sight of such horror on their faces in the form of righteous rage. Almost without any order being given, they turned away from the town, and marched towards the coast, following the retreating Thracians.  
They weren’t difficult to find; they’d left a trail of destruction behind them – setting fire to the forests, to any fields they found, any homesteads - all the Thebans had to do was follow the smoke.  
They came upon the barbarians only a short distance from their ships; they were riding at a leisurely pace, but had not grown lazy; the Thebans were spotted.  
The Thracians formed up a small phalanx, just enough to hold the Thebans off while the majority of their force made for the water’s edge, intending to board and make a run for it, Alexios supposed. He saw the moment they realised that their boats had been moved away from the shore, out of range of the archers; those that could swim launched themselves into the channel, while those who couldn’t shouted angrily after them.  
Alexios saw his chance. While the Thebans formed up into ranks, preparing to advance on the phalanx, he rode away into the trees, circling around the battle, towards the men on the beach. He burst out onto the sand and dismounted in one fluid leap, his sword and spear at the ready. Gripping it tightly, the reassuring and familiar weight of it calming him, and said a prayer to Ares to protect him. Then he plunged towards the nearest barbarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical Notes:  
> The sack of Mykalessos is detailed in Thucydides. It occurred in the summer of 413BC, so perhaps a little later than I have placed it.  
> The town of Mykalessos in the game is a small village already burnt out. I have done my best to reconcile the game village, and the historical one, which is described as a small walled city. I hope I’ve found a happy medium - it can be a little tricky sometimes :-)  
> The Thracians (from an area north of Phokis and Makedonia, which I have relocated to Malis to work within the map of the game) had come south to Athens in the expectation of joining the relief force sent to Sicilia early in the season under Demosthenes; but they arrived too late, so they were sent home again with instructions to do as much damage as they could to the enemy along the way. As Thucydides tells it, the sack of Mykalessos was horrendous. The Thracians killed everyone – the young and old, men women and children; perhaps most chillingly of all, they massacred an entire school of children who had ‘just come in for their lessons.’ The true horrors of war!  
> Scirphondas is a true historical figure; he was one of the leaders in Thebes (called a Boeotarch, and not technically a Spartan) who rode out at the head of the force sent to ‘save’ Mykalessos.


	8. Something to be Proud of

Two hundred and fifty dead at least, Alexios thought with a kind of depressed satisfaction, when those taken at Mykalessos were added to those killed on the beach. The Thebans, by contrast, had lost only twenty men; though one of them was their leader, Scirphondas. Alexios had seen the moment he was cut down by a great hulking man, so large that the bear pelt he wore around his shoulders had looked like a short cloak. He’d died bravely, and already the Thebans had gathered him up and were carrying him towards Thebes with reverence.  
Alexios felt an exhausted ache throughout his body; he whistled for Phobos. Though such pains were inevitable after a day of fighting, it never got any easier to bear.  
Leaving the Thebans burying their dead, and tossing the Thracians into the sea, he rode as fast as he could back to Thebes. He’d been too fired up with anger and adrenaline when he'd been in the city earlier to have taken any thought as to whether Apollodora and Euripides had made it safely out of Mykalessos; now he was worried.  
He needn’t have been; she'd reached the city safely, and Euripides along with the other sick from her clinic were now joined by the few men and women who had escaped the sacking of the town. Alexios didn’t interrupt her work; he sat by Euripides, who was oblivious to everything, tossing from side to side on his cot.  
Alexios sighed, resting his head against the wall behind him, and without meaning to, fell asleep.

It was already evening when he was shaken awake by a young Spartan soldier, who demanded, ‘Are you Alexios of Sparta?’  
Alexios groaned. ‘It was a man just like you, saying just those words, that brought me here – I should have told him to bugger off. What do you want?’  
The soldier looked offended, but said sniffily, ‘King Agis wishes to speak with you.’  
He groaned again. ‘In Dekelia?’  
The soldier said, ‘No – he’s here.’  
Alexios sat up and stretched, wincing. ‘He is?’  
‘Yes. We came as soon as we heard there was trouble, but we were too late to take part.’ He sounded regretful.  
Alexios got to his feet. ‘Alright. I’ll come with you.’  
  
The soldier led him to the Leader House, and there, in the courtyard beside the double storey house they found the king seated on a simple stool, surrounded by a group of men whom Alexios assumed were the Theban city council. It took him only a moment to figure out what was going on – The Thebans were speaking forcefully against Agis’ interference in the political affairs of the city. Clearly, he’d suggested a replacement leader for Scirphondas who they didn’t approve of. Agis was cool calm and collected, but Alexios knew from the look on his face that Agis had no intention of backing down.  
The argument could take all night, Alexios thought, and he was too tired to wait; so, to the shock of everyone there, he pushed his way through to Agis, and said, ‘You sent for me, my King?’  
The councillors were so shocked by his boldness, they fell silent, then stepped back from him with wrinkled noses. He hadn’t had a chance to wash properly, so he still had blood in his hair and elsewhere, and his tunic, the one he had worn under his armour, bore all the signs of the day he'd had. Frankly, he smelt of death.  
The king wasn’t dainty; the smell didn’t bother him, and he almost smiled at Alexios’ effrontery – such behaviour was entirely Spartan. He said, ‘I did. I heard you were instrumental in the action today?’  
Alexios said flatly, ‘I was there. I did what I could my King, but honestly, it wasn’t enough.’  
Agis said firmly, ‘You’re only one man; they were an army. I wanted to personally thank you for your bravery and heroism, and you should know that you will receive a commendation this time.’   
Alexios knew what he meant. He’d taken part in Spartan action years earlier during which he and some of the Krypteia including Thaletas’ brother Isadas had rescued a large group of Spartans from slavery on Lemnos. The king at the time, Archidemos, had deemed it unsuitable for Alexios to be named on the commendation because he had never been voted to a mess in the city – or, as Alexios had said at the time, because he wasn’t Spartan enough. He imagined that King Pleistoanax would have something to say about this idea now. Looking at Agis though, Alexios saw that he meant it, so he said simply, ‘Thank you, my King.’  
Agis nodded, and then said, ‘Your brother’s inside. He wishes to speak with you,’ before turning back to the councillors. 

Stentor was sitting at a table in an upstairs room, lecturing a young soldier cantankerously. ‘This is the only time I’ll warn you, Polydectes. You must count each item with your full attention, or we will often find ourselves left in this predicament. When you assume that a crate is full, inevitably we go short. The next time, you will face the lash. Now get out.’  
The soldier turned to leave. He met Alexios’ eye with the typically stony face of a Spartan soldier, but his eyes widened slightly when he recognised Alexios. Alexios nodded to him.  
When he’d left the room, Stentor said with a light frown, ‘Alexios. I heard you were here. Where’s Thaletas?’  
Alexios grimaced. ‘With Barnabas and Leda. We had an argument.’  
Stentor narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘What about?’  
Alexios kept his voice light, but he didn’t fool Stentor. ‘Oh – nothing that won’t blow over, I hope. My stubbornness, mainly.’ He moved towards a stool then, and Stentor frowned more deeply. ‘Are you limping? We aren’t going to have two lame Spartans in the family, are we?’  
Alexios glanced down at his leg, glad for the change of direction, and said casually, ‘I copped a blade to my calf this morning. Nothing serious.’ He sat with a light groan. ‘Battle pains,’ he added in reply to the raised eyebrows of his brother. ‘It’s been a very long day.’  
Stentor couldn’t help himself. ‘You’re getting old.’ When Alexios shot him a dirty look, he chuckled, before saying, ‘Tell me about Mykalessos?’  
So Alexios did; from the moment he had been woken from sleep by the scream of some poor citizen being killed, to the moment he'd fallen asleep again propped against a wall.  
When he'd finished, Stentor leant back on his stool and said, ‘It’s lucky that you were here.’  
Alexios sighed. ‘I did very little.’  
Stentor knew his brother; he always struggled with low spirits in the wake of battle – everyone did, one way or another, but Alexios felt it more than most. He said, ‘I never thought I’d say this to you, but sometimes you’re too modest. I understand you faced the entire Thracian horde alone?’  
‘I did, but that didn’t stop them.’  
‘So you think you shouldn’t have tried? How many did you kill?’  
‘I don’t know; fifty or so in the town, perhaps as many again at the beach.’  
Stentor shook his head. Once, he would have heard this figure with disbelief; but he’d seen Alexios fight, seen the piles of dead he’d left behind. It still shocked and amazed him, but he knew it was no exaggeration. ‘Then think of the harm those one hundred would have done had you not stopped them. Not just in Mykalessos, but wherever those who survived have gone to now.’  
Alexios grudgingly knew he was right, but he said, ‘Compared to how many Mykalessans were killed today…’ He trailed off and shrugged. ‘I just wish I could have done more.’  
‘I know.’  
They were quiet for a moment as a soldier came in; he spoke with Stentor and went out again.  
Alexios asked, ‘What was it you wished to speak to me about?’  
‘It’s about Kassandra…’  
Alexios caught his eye, a smile lurking on his lips as he interrupted, ‘Let me guess – she went with the army?’  
Stentor was genuinely shocked. ‘She told you what she had planned? And you didn’t stop her?’  
Alexios chuckled. ‘Calm down, Stentor. She didn’t tell me anything. Did you honestly think she would sit in Sparta and wait for Vettius to come back?’  
‘Yes,’ Stentor said, appalled at the relaxed way that Alexios was taking this news. ‘That’s what women do - especially ones with small babies!’  
Alexios laughed outright then. ‘She took Leon with her?’ He shook his head. ‘What a sister to have!’  
Stentor said with disgust, ‘I was going to ask you to go and fetch her back, but I see you won’t do it.’  
Alexios shook his head, his eyes gleaming with mirth. ‘Even if I wasn’t currently working for the king, no I wouldn’t. It would be a waste of time. She’d never be swayed from her decision – you ought to know that.’  
Grumblingly, he said, ‘Well, if she was going to listen to anyone, it’d be you.’  
Alexios looked at him for a moment, feeling suddenly better about what he had been through. He smiled. ‘You know – it’s good to see you, little brother.’  
Stentor wasn’t sure what to do with this compliment. He felt a little spike of happiness in his own heart; but he said brusquely, ‘I have work to do; but perhaps we can go hunting together tomorrow, if you’ll still be in Thebes? We’re here until the situation is resolved with the new leader, which to judge by the mob outside, will be a long process.’  
Alexios’ eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘You don’t go hunting, Stentor; you go shooting trees.’  
Stentor was quick with his comeback. ‘And you don’t hunt, you stab; but between us, I’m sure we can make do.’  
Alexios laughed outright at that, and even Stentor gave one of his rare grins. The two men clasped hands, and Alexios said, ‘Tomorrow then.’

The following afternoon, they went hunting in the forests of the Oropos Heights.  
They did kill some animals – a couple of deer for the table, and two lions – though they had both been accurate in their characterisation of the other’s skills: Stentor was hopeless with the bow and hit only one deer all afternoon, and perhaps a goat, though it got away, hit or not; while Alexios’ habitual mode of hunting, particularly when it came to vicious animals, was to run into their dens, grapple with them, hand to claw as it were, before finishing them off with a dagger. This way of doing things alarmed Stentor almost as much as it impressed him.  
After the lions were dead, and the sun was heading for the horizon, they started the slow walk back to the city, and Stentor asked, ‘What really happened with Thaletas?’  
Alexios was dabbing at a long scratch down his arm. He didn’t look up as he said, ‘Like I said, we argued.’  
‘What about?’  
Alexios glanced at him and considered not answering; but he knew that the question was already Stentor going against his grain, prompted by a genuine concern for both himself and Thaletas. He sighed his capitulation, and said, ‘You know last summer we crossed paths with Pitakos, a member of the Krypteia?’  
Stentor nodded. He’d heard about it in official despatches of course, but Thaletas had also spoken to him about it. Thaletas and Stentor had grown close, in a purely platonic way, since the situation with Isadora; Thaletas had taken to telling Stentor all kinds of things, including more than he wished to know about his feelings. Stentor often wondered why he talked to him of all people, because he never knew what to do with the information; he’d listen and offer what advice he could, all the while floundering around in his own mind trying to understand as best he could. He’d concluded he didn’t have as many feelings as some people. Stentor thought he was more like Alexios in that way.  
Alexios continued, ‘When that happened, I’d assumed Thaletas had told Pitakos that we were together. I found out he hadn’t.’  
He waited for more, but there was none. He prompted, ‘And?’  
Alexios looked at him, a certain tightness to his jaw. ‘What do you mean, and? He should have.’  
He frowned. ‘Why? What would Pitakos care?’  
Alexios said, ‘Because Thaletas and Pitakos had been lovers, and Pitakos obviously still had feelings for him. He even asked Thaletas to go with him back to Sparta when we were in Argolis.’  
Stentor swallowed his own disgust at Pitakos, who was another of those Spartans he’d thought abided by the laws – how many of them were there who acted like this? Thaletas had admitted they’d been lovers in the past, but Stentor assumed this was within the context of the agoge.  
With an effort though, he put this thought aside, reminding himself that this was not the issue here. With an effort, he focussed on what Alexios was telling him. ‘Did Thaletas know that – that Pitakos still wanted him? He never said so to me.’  
Alexios looked at him sharply. ‘He spoke to you about Pitakos?’  
‘He did. He said their meeting was awkward for him. He was worried you were jealous.’  
Alexios grunted. ‘I told him a hundred times I wasn’t.’  
‘You’re acting like you are.’  
Alexios shook his head. ‘You don’t understand.’  
He muttered under his breath, ‘I never bloody do.’ Then more loudly he said, ‘Then explain.’  
For a long moment he thought Alexios was going to ignore him, but at last he said through gritted teeth, ‘He’s ashamed of me.’  
Stentor looked at him in doubtful surprise, but seeing that he was serious, he couldn’t help it – a chuckle bubbled up in him and spilled out.  
Alexios scowled at him. ‘What are you laughing about? It’s not funny!’  
Stentor shook his head. ‘By the gods, if you only knew!’  
‘Knew what?’  
Stentor wiped his eyes as he said, ‘Alexios, really. Thaletas never shuts up about how proud of you he is. Sometimes I want to punch him in the face just to make him be quiet.’  
Alexios stared at him. ‘He talks about me?’  
‘All the damn time,’ Stentor said with amused disgust.  
Alexios was genuinely surprised. He knew that his lover and his brother spent time together, but he’d never imagined that they’d talk about anything beyond military matters. That he might have been discussed had never crossed his mind. With curiosity, he asked, ‘What else does he say?’  
Stentor looked at him with an amused eyebrow raised and shook his head. ‘I’m not repeating a word. Half of it would make me vomit.’  
Alexios smiled for a moment; there was something very comforting about all this… then he remembered what an asshole he’d been that night at the farm. He sighed.  
Stentor suddenly blurted out, ‘You know, I’m proud of you too.’ His face was burning, but he met Alexios’ eye for a moment before looking away awkwardly.  
Alexios saw his embarrassment and to diffuse the moment, he slapped Stentor on the shoulder and said, ‘Thank you, little brother. You’re not so bad yourself. Unless we’re talking about your skills with the bow – in which case, you’re an embarrassment to the family.’  
Stentor chuckled, and they continued back towards the city in companionable silence.


	9. A Time for Revenge

It had taken weeks for Euripides to regain enough strength for them to continue on their way, and for Alexios’ leg to heal, and even then, they took it in very easy stages, stopping for a few days here and there. It perhaps wasn’t necessary to do so, but Alexios was taking no chances.  
It was the beginning of summer proper by the time they crossed into Malis. The single road which ran all the way to Amphipolis would be dangerous now they had passed out of the Spartan controlled territories, so Alexios took the sensible precaution of cutting north of the road, into the lands controlled by the Daughters of Artemis.  
He expected that they would watch them passing, and in all likelihood, they would see no trace of the women who were certainly there; so, he was surprised when, having ventured only a short distance from the road, a group of three women and their semi-tamed wolves approached them.  
‘Chaire, Alexios of Sparta,’ called out the foremost of them; as they drew closer, Alexios saw that she was a small, sinewy woman with dark hair and a broody look on her face who reminded him of someone, though he could not place it; but then, he had met so many huntresses over the years, the familiarity might mean nothing at all. She introduced herself as Khloe, and continued, ‘I’m the lead huntress here in Malis.’  
‘Chaire,’ he said, smiling reassuringly at Euripides’, who was naturally alarmed at the appearance of these hardened warrior women who he’d only ever heard horror stories about. ‘This is Euripides, the poet. We’re on our way to Amphipolis.’  
She nodded slightly at this, but said, ‘Artemis has led you to me as sure and straight as her arrows fly.’  
Alexios frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’  
‘Come,’ she said, gesturing back the way they had come. ‘We have a camp ahead. We will talk there.’  
Alexios agreed, and as they followed the women, he explained to Euripides as succinctly as he could that he was the leader of the Daughters of Artemis, and how that had come about.  
After his initial surprise, Euripides was curious. ‘How long have you been their leader?’  
Alexios squinted as he thought about it. ‘It must be thirteen summers now, or something like that.’  
Euripides shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know if anyone has told you this Alexios, but you really have the most extraordinary life.’  
He smiled wryly. ‘They certainly have, Euripides – those who haven’t decided instead that I’m an unapologetic exaggerator.’  
They reached the camp, and before seating themselves in the traditional circle around the fire, the way in which all Daughter’s business was conducted, Alexios and Khloe made offerings to Artemis at the altar which stood to one side.  
This done, they sat and Alexios asked, ‘Now, what is it that you wished to ask of me?’  
Khloe said, ‘Despite our vigilance, our lands are being encroached upon by the soldiers who inhabit the Trachis Fort. We thought we had driven them out; they went away at the beginning of spring in a flotilla of ships and for three moons, we were free of their presence; but alas, they have returned.’  
Alexios’ ears pricked up at this; he wondered whether these might be the men who had sacked Mykalessos. He knew they had come from Malis, but he’d supposed they were from further north.  
Khloe was continuing, ‘They are heathens. They trample the land; they hunt the animals of these woods for sport, killing more than they need, leaving the carcasses to decay; they kill our sisters and our furry companions and laugh as they do so. Worst of all, they pay no reverence to Artemis who rules these lands. She wishes us to avenge this sacrilege, but we cannot do it alone. They must be driven from Trachis Fort, and for that, we need you.’  
Alexios said, ‘What insignia do these men carry?’  
‘A knotted design embracing a bulls head.’  
He glanced at Euripides, whose face was drawn – whether because he guessed what Alexios was thinking or simply because he was weary, Alexios didn’t know. He looked back at Khloe. ‘These are evil men; for what they do to you, and for what they did in Boeotia. Of course I’ll help you.’  
Though she had a naturally guarded face like all the Daughters, she sounded relieved as she said, ‘Artemis be praised.’  
Alexios said, ‘I’ll wait until after nightfall and infiltrate the fort.’  
‘Until then,’ she said, ‘You should rest.’ She had been looking at Euripides subtly up until that point; she asked Alexios, ‘I think your travelling companion has been unwell?’  
Alexios glanced at Euripides who, compared to how unwell he had been, was looking very healthy; but he saw him then through the eyes of an outsider. He was still pale and lethargic. He looked constantly tired. ‘He has. Until recently, he has been under medical care in Thebes.’ He told her about the fever, and what Apollodora had told him – that the sickness had been widespread.  
She nodded, and addressing Euripides for the first time, said, ‘Perhaps you would allow one of my sisters to prepare you some herbal medicine? We have experienced this illness amongst our number, and she has discovered a remedy for the lack of strength that follows the fever?’  
Euripides shyly said, ‘I would be thankful for any help you may be able to provide.’  
Khloe nodded gravely, and asked one of her sisters to prepare the concoction.  
Alexios watched her as she was speaking, and that familiarity tugged at his memory again. He frowned, and when she had given her orders and turned back to them, he said, ‘Have we met before?’  
She looked at him for a moment, considering what to say. ‘Yes, Eagle Bearer. We met many years ago. I did not think you would remember.’  
Alexios said, ‘I don’t remember where…’  
A look crossed her face – unexpectedly, sadness, and perhaps embarrassment – as she said, ‘It was on Seriphos.’  
He continued to frown for a moment, then it came to him. He looked at her in surprise. ‘You’re the little girl I met in the clay pits…’  
‘I was that girl,’ she said, interrupting him before he gave any further details of what Alexios realised must be a humiliating memory for her. ‘I am not her anymore. You weren’t kind to me in the traditional sense, misthios; but you told me what I needed to hear. I stowed away on a ship soon after, and ended up on Chios. Artemis must have been guiding me, for I was taken in by the Daughters, and raised amongst their number.’ She looked at him intently. ‘If you hadn’t been unkind, Alexios of Sparta, I would never have left that island. I owe you thanks.’  
Alexios said softly, with sincerity, ‘I’m pleased you found a place in which you so clearly belong.’ He had left Seriphos all those years ago believing that he would return to the island in the future and find that she was the town madwoman who people treated abominably; it had been this thought which had driven him to say the harsh things he had said to her.  
She stood, clearly upset by the memories he had caused her to recall. ‘I have work to do. I’ll return before you leave tonight.’  
He watched her walk away, and not for the first time, wondered at the impact he had had on the world. He often found the traces of his decisions like this, in unexpected places.

As dusk took over the world, Alexios prepared for his nights work, putting on his armour, sharpening his daggers, and mentally bracing himself for violence.  
As he was doing this, he looked over at the fire, over which a boar was roasting, and saw Euripides deep in a discussion with two of the Daughters. He smiled. Alexios had been surprised by how readily they’d taken the poet to themselves; they seemed to appreciate his quiet ways, and perhaps his wisdom, though it was of a purely Athenian type, and for the most part, unintelligible to Alexios.  
Suddenly, Euripides stood, and declaimed:  
“Sooner would I stand/ Three times to face their battles, shield in hand/ Than bear one child…”  
The women around him whooped, and pulled him back onto the log he’d been sitting on, offering him the communal cup of wine, which he took.  
Alexios shook his head slightly, and stood, slipping away. He didn’t want Euripides to worry anymore than he naturally would; better to leave him chatting happily.  
  
He passed through the forest on Phobos, greeting the Daughters he met where they stood on watch, and reached the fort as the moon rose above the horizon – it was only a sliver, so the light was not too bright for his purposes.  
He climbed the timber wall, and became the sinister shadow he always imagined himself to be during these kinds of raids. He passed along the walls first, killing those who were on watch. Then he dropped down to the lower levels, and worked his way around the interior; diving behind shrubs, ducking through damaged walls, dropping onto soldiers from above, or snatching them as they passed and stabbing them in the long grass.  
He was remorseless in the moment, taking the lives of these men without compunction. For what they’d done at Mykalessos, they deserved death. For every defenceless child they’d killed, for every harmless woman, and for every unarmed man slaughtered without distinction they deserved to die.  
He killed them all – as thoroughly as he had once killed all the Athenians in the Ancient Stronghold on Lemnos; then he released the captives from their cages – Daughters, for the most part, though a few unlucky civilians. They thanked him of course, in a babble of appreciative words, but he waved a dismissive hand.  
He stopped to wash the blood from his arms in a trough, the line of horses hitched nearby watching him placidly, before setting off back towards the camp; walking, glad the limp was gone, and taking his time.   
He found himself thinking of Thaletas, as he always did in quiet moments. He wondered where he was, what he was thinking, if he missed him too.  
As time had passed, after he’d spoken with Stentor, and after the events at Mykalessos, the causes of their rift had really come to seem almost irrelevant.   
Reluctantly he admitted that Stentor had been right to point out that there had been no cause for Thaletas to tell Pitakos about their relationship; and Alexios couldn’t deny that Thaletas had told the truth when he said he hadn’t realised that Pitakos was harbouring feelings for him – Alexios had seen that for himself.  
He sighed. Why had he acted as he did?   
He hated thinking about these kinds of questions, which he thought of as vaguely womanly; but still, the question refused to go away by his ignoring it, and some inner urge told him he had to figure this out; their love, as Alexios saw it, was broken, and only these answers would allow it to be pieced back together.  
He admitted reluctantly that up until a certain point, his life had been a long series of people abandoning him in one form or another. Yet, even though that was true, since he and Thaletas had fallen in love in Sparta, Thaletas had never done anything other than love him in all its varied forms. They’d developed the kind of trust that should not have broken; and Alexios was forced to concede that the situation with Pitakos had revealed the single fault-line in their relationship – the single fault-line in himself.  
He’d always thought it would be Thaletas’ jealousy that would break them if anything did; but he saw now that at least the jealousy was always direct, actionable in a manner of speaking. Alexios had always been able to reassure him through his physical expressiveness that his love remained steadfast; or at least, Thaletas had accepted it as reassurance.  
This fault-line though, this was something else. Suddenly clear to him, he knew that all he could do was trust, absolutely; and that trust could only come from within himself. He knew that Thaletas had done nothing wrong; it was his own skewed worldview which had made it seem like he had; but could he do that?  
He looked up at Selene through the branches of the trees, and wished he could tell Thaletas right then that he was sorry for everything, not least of all for how damaged he was on the inside; he just hoped Thaletas would give him the chance. 

The same night, the Adrestia was arriving into the port of Amphipolis, the light of the stars and the sliver of a moon above showing the barest outline of the city ahead of them. Thaletas was standing on the bridge, hearing but not really listening to Barnabas calling instructions to the crew as they manoeuvred into position to tie off.  
He felt sick with anxiety, as he had done since they left Delos, despite trying to remain positive.

The afternoon that the Adrestia was finally seaworthy again, he’d been standing at the dock of Delos, watching the ship row out from the shore where they’d repaired it, and once out into the straight, the sails were dropped, the ship lurched forward and swiftly passed by, before the sail went up and the rowers turned it back. They would bring it in to dock, Thaletas knew. He smiled, happy that they would soon be on their way again.  
He hadn’t seen Kyra again since the Archegesion; but that afternoon she’d sought him out as he watched this testing of the repairs. ‘You’ll be on your way again soon, then?’  
He turned, still slightly nervous, despite her assurances that all was forgiven; she had looked grim. ‘Tomorrow morning, yes.’  
She’d nodded, but she remained serious as she said, ‘I heard some news today that I thought you would want to hear. There was a battle, outside Mykalessos in Boeotia. Two thousand Thracians sacked the town, and then the Thebans mounted a defence. A merchant from Boeotia told me. He heard that everyone in the city was annihilated. He also heard that Alexios was there…’  
Thaletas’ heart had begun to pound frantically; he’d tried to remain calm as he asked, ‘Are you sure?’  
She frowned. ‘The merchant was sure. He said Alexios the Eagle Bearer fought with the Thebans, driving the Thracians back into the sea.’  
‘And? Did he survive the battle?’  
‘The merchant didn’t know. He only heard that Alexios was wounded, and the Boeotian leader was killed.’  
Thaletas had thanked her for telling him, though he really wished she had kept it to herself. 

Since then, he’d felt sick with worry. Though Alexios had survived the battle, the fact that he was wounded was enough to make Thaletas sleep very poorly at nights. He knew how badly Alexios cared for wounds in general. He’d always taken it upon himself to look after his lover’s injuries because he couldn’t be trusted to do it himself.  
The ship came to a halt, and he went ashore in great haste without waiting to discuss where he was going with Barnabas – the captain would know. He went immediately to the noticeboard, where he knew Alexios would leave a note if he had arrived in the city before them, but he found nothing.  
Downcast, he stood for a long moment looking up at Selene, and then, moved by the same spirit he had felt on Delos, he lifted up his hands and prayed to any god that might be listening to look after Alexios, wherever he was; adding, with a lump in his throat, even if that was in Hades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical notes:  
> Euripides’ quote is taken from his play Medea.


	10. Amphipolis

It was a hot, sunny afternoon a few days later when Alexios and Euripides rounded a curve in the road beside Olynthos Fortress and saw the walls of Amphipolis across the water of the harbour. It was late in the day, the sun low and the shadows long bars of black sharply contrasted to the golden quality of the light.  
Alexios’ heart leapt when he saw the Adrestia at anchor. He felt his whole soul reaching forward, out across the water and into the city, seeking Thaletas, longing for his touch, longing to hold him to himself once more…  
Euripides let out a grateful sigh, and said, ‘At last. I had wondered if we’d ever make it this far.’  
Alexios just smiled at his friend in acknowledgement that he had as well. Their friendship had been immeasurably strengthened by the journey that was at last ending, but he couldn’t have been happier to reach the end of their travels.  
From within the fort, two men came out into the road. They rode towards them, and Alexios automatically reached for his spear, but Euripides called out ‘Philemon! It’s good to see you.’  
Alexios relaxed, returning the spear to its place, and smiled.  
Philemon bowed from the waist, and said, ‘Euripides! I was afraid you’d been captured!’  
Alexios and Euripides dismounted, Euripides rushing to embrace Philemon warmly. ‘I was unwell in Thebes; it has taken me a long while to be myself again.’  
‘Well, you’re here now,’ Philemon said, surveying him from head to foot. ‘It’s so good to see you; and Archelaus will be thrilled you’ve accepted his invitation.’  
Euripides turned then to Alexios and embraced him, despite Alexios’ armour. ‘Thank you Alexios. Only you can know what you have done for me.’  
Alexios returned the embrace. ‘I would do it all again if you needed it. You have always been a good friend to me.’ Euripides stepped back, and Alexios continued. ‘I’ve never been good at saying goodbye – but I hope we meet again someday.’  
Euripides smiled. ‘I’m sure we will, my friend.’  
Alexios smiled, and mounted up, watching for a moment as the three men turned towards the fortress, before spurring his horse towards the distant city.

Alexios went directly to the ship. The crew who’d been left to guard it were excited to see him, and for what felt like forever, he patiently answered their questions, all the while wishing to rush away and find Thaletas. At last they were satisfied and could be persuaded to provide him with information on where he would find him.  
He thanked them and hurried away, not seeing the grins they shared with each other.  
Since he’d last visited the city, many years before, and certainly since the first time he’d been there, the place had been transformed, spreading backwards from the harbour; many public buildings had been completed in gleaming white marble. It all had a grandeur to it that was at least as impressive as Athens or Korinthia.

He found the small ground floor apartment where the sailors had described. The door was open, and he stood for a moment there, looking in. It was a single room, long and narrow, with a pallet at one end and a table on one side. Several lampstands glittered with lit lamps, filling the space with a golden light.  
Thaletas had his back to the door, unaware of Alexios, preparing food, humming sadly to himself.  
‘Thaletas,’ Alexios said softly, his voice catching with emotion.  
Thaletas spun around and dropped the bowl he was holding, which clattered to the floor. ‘Alexios!’ he gasped, a look of joy and disbelief on his face.  
Alexios stepped into the room, and pushed the door closed behind him. They slowly moved towards one another, almost as though it were a dream that neither of them wanted to shatter by moving too abruptly.  
Thaletas said softly, ‘I heard about Mykalessos, and your wound. I thought you were dead.’  
‘I didn’t think you’d wait for me…’ Alexios said at the same time, almost in a whisper.  
They were within touching distance, and Alexios reached out for Thaletas’ face then; Thaletas closed his eyes, leaning into the hand as Alexios traced the line of his cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the beloved lines of his beautiful face, feeling a flood of love wash over him.   
Thaletas opened his eyes, his heart hammering, his senses reeling with emotion and desire. For a long moment, they could only gaze at one another, their hearts too full even to speak, until Alexios broke the moment. He dropped his head, kissing him - at first gently, tenderly, then with more intensity as Thaletas snaked his arms around the reassuringly real Alexios - finally there in his arms, no longer only a dream. For a long while, they were lost in each other, in the warm sea of forgiveness and the consuming heat of love.  
Breaking apart some time later, Thaletas said huskily, ‘Let’s get you out of that armour.’  
He felt strangely tentative as he began undoing the ties and catches, feeling almost as though it was all too good to be true, and that Alexios would disappear again if he made one wrong move; but Alexios was there, living and breathing, looking at him with such love, Thaletas could hardly concentrate. He laid aside each piece of armour until Alexios stood only in his tunic. This Alexios removed himself, and Thaletas felt his throat tighten at the golden vision before him, the man he loved, the man he had truly thought he would never see again; he was brimming over with happiness and relief, of love and desire. In the lamplight his eyes greedily devoured the lines of the body he knew so well, and loved so much – but also the new scars that had changed it in the last months. He looked from the angry red scar on Alexios’ leg to his face.   
There was such worry in his look, such caring, that Alexios murmured, ‘It’s alright. Everything is alright.’ He reached out again as he said this, any sign of his earlier hesitancy swept away by the yearning he felt just to touch Thaletas, to feel he was there, to lose himself in the bliss that was their love.  
They lay together on the pallet, arms entwined, bodies pressed together, eye to eye. Alexios kissed Thaletas’ face – his lips, his forehead, the stubble on his chin, his neck – then he watched his own hand as he traced the skin of Thaletas arm, along the gentle angle of his side, and towards his narrow hips, caressing each of the scars he knew like a map of the land, heading ever downward. Thaletas watched his face, saw the echo of his own awe at the body before him, and with a mischievous thumb, he caressed the sensitive skin at the nape of Alexios’ neck, the area he knew could break Alexios’ resolve at the best of times. Alexios met his eyes then, his pupils dilated with desire as dark as molasses; but he didn’t act. Instead he said softly, ‘I love you, Thaletas. I’ve been a bastard and a fool. Can you ever forgive me?’  
Thaletas had a lump in his throat the size of any apple; he said in a voice thick with emotion, ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’  
Alexios buried his face in Thaletas shoulder then, and, though he would deny it later, there were tears; but from that moment of true vulnerability came true forgiveness.   
It was as though a gate had opened between them, and from it poured pure bliss; at first it was enough just to touch one another, to caress one another, to kiss one another, mumbling half incoherent words of love; but then the sheer visceral blur of skin to skin became the demands of lust, the drive to become one, to absorb each other, to join once more in the perfect imperfection of their love... and so for a long while, they were lost to the world beyond one another.

The following day they didn’t leave the apartment until the afternoon, and only then because Thaletas insisted they needed to eat, and to do that, they had to go the Agora.  
‘It’s not far,’ Thaletas assures him as they lay entwined with one another; both smiling at nothing, both exhausted but so full of blissful happiness they didn’t feel tired at all.  
‘Now?’  
‘Why not?’ Thaletas said, sitting up. ‘It’s getting late in the day, and I’m starving.’  
Alexios caught his hand and pulled him back into his arms. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, kissing Thaletas on the nearest skin, which happened to be his ear. ‘Let’s just stay here.’  
Thaletas laughed and slipped out of his grasp and sat back up. ‘You might be satisfied to live on air, but I need to eat.’  
Alexios sighed with resignation. ‘Alright, if you insist.’  
Thaletas chuckled. ‘It won’t take long, I promise.’  
They dressed in simple tunics, lightly armed more out of habit than any need to do so, and then went towards the Agora on the northern edge of the city, which had been forest the last time Alexios had been there.  
As they approached, Thaletas said suddenly, ‘There is something I didn’t mention, which I wanted to show you.’  
Alexios raised an eyebrow with a smile playing on his lips. ‘What trick is this? Are we going to have come out for food, and end up never seeing our bed again?’  
Thaletas laughed. ‘No. Don’t you see it?’ he asked, pointing away to their right.  
Alexios had only been watching Thaletas, longing to go back to the apartment again. ‘There’s only one thing I want to see right now, and it’s right in front of me.’  
Thaletas chuckled, his eyes shining; but he said, ‘Look at that statue over there. Doesn’t it look familiar?’  
Alexios looked where he pointed, and for a moment only half-saw what his eyes rested on; then he slowly took in what it was he was looking at. He said, ‘Is that… a statue of Brasidas?’  
As they drew closer, he knew that it was. Slightly larger than life, the statue of his friend had been enclosed in a sacred precinct right in front of the Agora. There was an altar before it, on which sat many offerings, and several people were engaged in praying to it – to him, Alexios corrected with surprise. People were praying to Brasidas.  
Thaletas smiled. ‘I was as stunned as you; but apparently the people here honour Brasidas for bringing them freedom from the Athenians; they call him their founder and he is considered a hero. He’s buried beneath the statue.’  
For a long moment Alexios could only stare up at the face of his friend, captured well by the artist, then slowly he broke into a smile. ‘I can only imagine what he’d have to say about this!’  
Thaletas smiled. ‘Didn’t you tell me there’s a town in Elis where there’s a statue of a particular Eagle Bearer…’  
Alexios snorted. ‘There is, but they think I’m a demi-god for some reason.’ ‘Not that you encouraged them to think that...’ Alexios grinned, and said, ‘Of course not.’ Then he sobered and looked up at the statue. ‘He’d have been amazed to see this.’ Then rather wistfully, he said to the statue, ‘We’ll meet again one day, old friend.’  
Then he turned to Thaletas and took his hand. He kissed him on the cheek, despite the horrified looks of some of the people standing nearby. He winked at one woman who was gaping at them, causing her to turn away in alarm. He said to Thaletas, ‘Thank you for showing me; but let’s get this food. I have a strong desire to show you my gratitude in ways that I don’t think these people want to see.’  
He chuckled and they went to find something to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical Notes:  
> There really was a shrine built to honour Brasidas in Amphipolis on the place where he was buried. Plutarch says that it was in front of the new agora, though I am not sure precisely where in the city that was. He was viewed as a hero even in antiquity; Plato in his 'Symposium' even goes so far as to compare him to Achilles.


	11. Back in Sparta

The last shades of autumn were shifting into the cold, wet forerunners of winter; soon the snows would arrive in Sparta, but for now, the sun still had a little warmth in it.  
The Spartiate Assembly were gathered in the theatre. It was a more subdued gathering than the one at the beginning of the season, with less than half the amount of men present, as many would remain in key positions for the winter, and others had not yet returned to the city.  
Despite this, the display was impressive, each man in his armour, though without his shield. King Agis and the Spartan force from Dekelia had returned, leaving a garrison of Thebans in their place. Agis was only back in Sparta for the winter; after that, it had been decided, he would remain at Dekelia until the Athenians were finally defeated. Alexios had not been alone in wondering just how long that might be.  
It was Agis who stood before the gathered Spartans to speak, but Alexios thought, not to make a speech. Only Athenians made speeches, as Thaletas liked to say.  
Alexios, who stood calmly in front of the assembly beside Agis was glad about that. Many of the eyes that rested on him were distinctly unfriendly – Pleistoanax’s friends, no doubt. Alcibiades was there somewhere; he’d caught sight of him earlier, but they’d only eyed one another. His male family members – Thaletas, Nikolaos, Vettius and Stentor stood together, all of them looking proud or feigning an aloof indifference (that was Stentor of course, Alexios though with an inward smile.)  
In truth, he felt odd. This was supposed to be the highlight of his life, he supposed; certainly it would be included in his eulogy when some malaka finally got the better of him. He imagined he’d hear the words as he crossed the Styx; but somehow, he couldn’t help but think of Brasidas, and how he had been commended in the same place all those years before. Had he felt like this, somehow surprised that he was being commended for what had only felt like necessary behaviour? He didn’t know. One day he would ask him.  
Agis started talking, and Alexios brought his mind back to the moment. He watched as Agis stood as straight as a poker and said in a few blunt sentences, ‘We are here today, brothers, to commend Alexios of Sparta, grandson of King Leonidas, the Hero of Thermopylae, for his brave action at Mykalessos; his action in taking Trachis Fort in Malis unassisted, destroying those who had devastated our allies in Boeotia and those who killed Scirphondas, a Spartan leader of principles and virtue. For these actions, Alexios, we commend you. Your name will be inscribed on a bronze plaque and presented to Athena Chalkioikos, that your bravery may be remembered forever.’  
The gathered Spartans cheered three time, and noise that Alexios thought of as a kind of manly ‘Hoo’ noise, and then dispersed.

That night, back at the House of Leonidas, the whole family was seated around the table in the main room of the house, talking and laughing – well, except for Stentor, who had been commanded to attend Agis at the throne room. They were all curious what that might be about, but they would get it out of him soon enough.  
Alexios looked at the faces of his family, and smiled.  
The family had taken the news of his commendation each in their own way. Myrrine had smiled and nodded to herself, as though she had always known it was coming; Nikolaos had been bursting with pride, observable only in the smile that hadn’t left his face since. He was even smiling then, as he was looking down at his grandson who he was holding on his lap. Vettius had grinned, and said ‘Welcome to the club,’ as he’d received a commendation himself at the beginning of the summer for action which had secured the port in Kythera. What went unsaid was the much larger part which had been played by his wayward wife. Kassandra had returned to Sparta unrepentant. She’d shrugged off all the praise, and the censure of her having gone at all, with equal indifference. She’d congratulated Alexios though. She’d made only one comment about her choices, and that had been quietly to Alexios. He grinned to remember it. She’d said that her son was certainly the youngest Spartan to have ever been on campaign, and a successful campaign at that.  
Everything was right in the world, Alexios thought; though he hastily corrected his hubris, adding, for now. Thaletas’ thigh was pressed against his, and he knew that later, they would go to the cave together, where they could do as they pleased. No one, seeing the new closeness that had formed between them, had offered a comment when they’d announced they weren’t staying in the house. Only Stentor had muttered, ‘Thank the gods,’ but everyone pretended not to hear him.  
As though he had been summoned by the thought, the door opened, and Stentor came into the room.  
‘News,’ he said briefly in answer to the curious faces of them all. He went over to the fireplace and warmed his hands and stamped his feet.  
‘Agis has received news from Gylippus in Sicilia; they’ve crushed the Athenians.’  
The atmosphere in the room became tense. Thaletas asked, ‘How crushed is crushed?’  
Stentor spoke as though he could hardly believe it himself. ‘The fleet has been destroyed or claimed by Syracuse. The land army has been annihilated: both the original army sent out two summers past, and the reinforcements sent since under Demosthenes. They are destroyed.’  
There was a long moment of silence as they all looked at one another.  
‘Tell us the whole story,’ Alexios said.  
Stentor said, ‘We won’t know the whole story until Gylippus returns. Demosthenes arrived outside Syracuse at the start of summer, with a massive relief force of hoplites and cavalry. Apparently overestimating his strength, had led a night action against Gylippus and his combined Peloponnesian and Syracusan force. I don’t know what he was thinking; only a maniac fights at night.’ He shook his head, and continued, ‘The resulting battle was chaos; no one could tell who was friend or foe, and there was general slaughter, though mostly Athenians were killed, so Gylippus relates. There was a sea battle after that, as the Athenians tried to escape by sea. The majority of Athenian ships were destroyed or captured. That left them only one escape route, to march away from Syracuse with what was left of their army in two contingents – one under Nikias, the other under Demosthenes. They were harried all the way by the Syracusans and Peloponnesians and the contingents became separated from one another. In the end, Demosthenes capitulated first, after most of his forces were killed by slingers and archers. Nikias held out a little longer, but his contingent too was decimated in the same way. Both commanders were taken alive.’  
Alexios demanded, ‘What happened to them? To Demosthenes and Nikias?’  
Stentor said, ‘Gylippus urged them to send the two commanders back here to Sparta, but the Sicilians would have none of it. They slit their throats.’  
Alexios looked at Thaletas for a long moment, and muttered, ‘He’s dead then.’ He thought he should feel more relieved; but there had been a long period when Demosthenes had been his friend and it was hard to imagine that his ending had been quite so brutal, quite so… unheroic. He was confused that he felt sorry for him, even after all the trouble he’d caused him.  
‘This will change everything,’ Myrrine said quietly. ‘A large part of their fleet destroyed; who knows how many of their young men dead. Then, with Dekelia choking the very life out of the city…’  
‘The Athenian Empire is over,’ Stentor said quietly. ‘The tide had turned against them.’  
Nikolaos looked at him sharply. ‘Hubris, Stentor. We don’t know what the gods may yet decide. We can hope, but we cannot be sure.’  
Kassandra said, ‘Never mind about what next summer brings. We can celebrate the success of Gylippus tonight, can’t we?’  
This suggestion caused a shift in the atmosphere again, and the wine was fetched, and for some time, all dark thoughts of the unknown future were driven from their minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical Notes:  
> The details of the defeat of the Athenians in Sicilia are taken from Thucydides. Honestly, his descriptions of the sea battle and the pursuit of Demosthenes and Nikias overland are probably the most powerful descriptive pieces of writing in all of ancient history that I've encountered. The death of Demosthenes and Nikias literally made me gasp.  
> The Spartans certainly hoped that this defeat would mean the end of the Athenians, but it wasn't for nearly a further decade before they could say that Athens was truly broken, though most of the war thereafter was conducted in the islands of the east and even into Asia Minor. Eventually, Sparta, led by Lysander, defeated the Athenians in 404BC; though even that wasn't to last...  
> It may be worth mentioning here, as I left it unresolved in this story, that King Agis was possibly (probably) aware of the affair between Timaea and Alcibiades, but the sources don't make this clear - I left Stentor carrying the burden of knowledge - would he have told Agis? Maybe, maybe not... Historically speaking, if Agis knew, he acted like he didn't; though he was Alcibiades' enemy, and in the following year, that emnity drove Alcibiades from Sparta. Incidentally, Timaea had a son, Leontycidas, who was said to be Alcibiades' child. That caused some troubles for Sparta down the line, that's for sure.


End file.
